The Prince and the Storyteller
by Adrelaide
Summary: Cursed by a wicked Enchantress, Magnus wanders the world searching for true love's kiss. Alec struggles with the duties of inheriting a kingdom, with things not looking any better when a handsome storyteller falls into his life. Malec. Fluff. AU. Lemon. Angst. WIP.
1. Chapter 1

**The Prince and the Storyteller. Prologue.**

"A Storyteller?" The Painter's Daughter repeated, looking towards the Lord's Son with interest. Her hair was a riot of red curls, her eyes greener than any jewel the Lord's Son had seen in his entire life. She looked stunning in the dress he'd given her, the blue silk making her lovely features stand out all the more. Then again, she had been beautiful in the common cotton she'd worn when she had arrived with her mother to the Lord's manor to work on a commission. It was then that the Lord's Son had decided to court her with all of his attentions.

"Yes," The Lord's Son answered, amused with the curiosity in the girl's eyes. His gold eyes glittered as he took a hold of her hand, their fingers intertwining together. He ignored the occasional looks from the townspeople. In his family's lands there was no need to be discreet. A Lord's Son could marry a Painter's Daughter without strife, and that's exactly what he planned to do once they were both of age. "He travels through my family's lands and stays here for a few months, taking a break from the roads. We often invite him over for dinner to hear his tales." The Painter's Daughter looked thoughtful.

"They must be good stories, for the Lord to invite him over for dinner." She said, letting the Lord's Son direct her through the busy streets of the town, towards the large fountain that marked the Town Square. Venders shouted from their carts, some holding out rich, steaming foods that made the mouth water, other was showing off their crafted goods. Children ran about in the streets, their faces always familiar. This was home to her, plain and simple.

"The best. He sent word that he'd be arriving today, and I planned on meeting him. I wanted you to hear one of his tales." The Lord's Son explained, leading the Painter's Daughter to the base of the fountain. It was a priceless work of art that the Painter herself had designed for the Lord. A large, marble angel, clad in stone robes stood, ringed by arches of water. It's wings were spread wide, water falling from the ends of its feathers like rain, joining the pool at the angel's feet. The Painter's Daughter gazed at the fountain, feeling a sense of pride, before looking at the Lord's Son. His blonde hair seemed to shimmer, even in the shadow of the Angel's wings, his eyes staring out across the Square. She was completely enamored with him, even though her mother didn't approve of of her daughter being courted at such a young age. She watched as his eyes widened a fraction, delight filling them.

"Aha! There you are!" He pointed, and the Painter's Daughter followed his finger to a tall figure clad in a myriad of colors. His cloak was stitched together of various fabrics in every shade, from a deep purple to a bright green, with a splash of bright and cheerful orange in the mix. The stranger's hand was raised, waving to someone in the distance, causing the colors of the cloak to shine and flicker in the sunlight. The Painter's Daughter thought the cloak a work of art, much like her mother's fountain, and she couldn't help but admire it as they walked towards the stranger. The figure turned, and the Painter's Daughter was surprised to see that the traveler was a man with golden eyes, much like the Lord's Son. Only while her suitor's eyes reminded her of the sun in the morning sky, this man's eyes reminded her of a cat, full of mystery and secrets.

How strange.

When they reached the man, the Lord's Son placed a hand on his shoulder, grinning widely. "It's been forever since we last saw you. Staying out of trouble, I would hope?" The stranger grinned, and up close the Painter's Daughter saw that he was indeed quite tall, his skin as gold as the wheat during the harvest.

"For the most part." The man replied, patting the hand on his shoulder, before he gaze was drawn to the Painter's Daughter. "Is this the little miss you were talking about? The one that wants to hear my tales?" He asked, smiling at the Painter's Daughter.

"I'm not a little miss." The Painter's Daughter replied, looking insulted. "And I don't even know if I want to hear your stories." The Lord's Son looked at her in surprise, but the traveler just laughed, throwing his head back so far that the hood of his multicolored cloak fell, revealing pitch black hair.

"Ah, the heart of a dragon, this one. I can see why you like her." The man waggled his eyebrows at the Lord's Son, before motioning to the lip of the fountain. "I have quite a few tales about dragons, if you'd like to hear about your kin. Have a seat, Painter's Daughter, and I will tell you them. After all, I am but a humble Storyteller, with nothing but my memories." He moved to sit down on the seat of the fountain, and the Painter's Daughter looked on in confusion.

"How do you know who I am?" She asked, surprised. The Storyteller grinned as her, motioning to the sleeves of her dress. They were speckled with paint from the portrait she'd been working on earlier this morning.

"Who else would allow such a pretty silk dress to get stained with paint?" He leaned back, relaxing in the shadow of the fountain. The Painter's Daughter blushed, hiding her hands behind her back. "Not to mention the Lord's Son sends letters to my Traveling Companion all the time describing your beauty. I could pick you out from a crowd with my eyes covered." The Painter's Daughter looked at the Lord's Son, smiling at the embarrassed look on his face. "Now, did you want that dragon story or not?"

"No." She replied, moving to sit next to Storyteller on the fountain. He looked at her from the corner of his eye, surprised. "I want to hear a story about true love." The Storyteller blinked, before chuckling.

"Still a girl at heart, I see. Nothing wrong what that, of course." The Storyteller added at the look on her face. "In fact, my best story happens to be one about true love. It's a long one though, would you still like to hear it?" He asked, and the Painter's Daughter felt a strange excitement build in her chest. She hardly noticed the Lord's Son sitting down next to her.

"Yes, I want to hear it." She answered, and the Storyteller grinned. "What is it about?"

"It's about how a beautiful Prince fell in love with a simple Storyteller." He replied. The Painter's Daughter blinked.

"You mean a Storyteller like you?" The man laughed in response.

"Yes," He answered, his eyes glowing in the sunlight. "Someone very much like me."

* * *

A/N: The beginning of a new Malec tale! This is obviously set in an alternate universe, complete with magic and true love. Various characters will be making their appearances, as I'm sure you can already tell.

Reviews are adored!


	2. Chapter 2

**The Prince and the Storyteller 1.**

"A cold-hearted Prince?" Magnus repeated, looking across the bar table to his companion of exactly three days. Simon was, in all ways, dull. Where Magnus preferred to strut about in brightly colored clothing, shouting out tales of wizards and warriors, and Simon slinked around in drab brown clothes, playing his sitar for the crowds that gathered around Magnus like moths to the flame, collecting the money the audience offered for Magnus' tales. Magnus didn't mind, after all, he and Simon had agreed from the first day to split their earnings evenly, and they were doing well enough that there was no need to squabble over loose change.

"Yes," Simon nodded over the lip of his drink. "They say that no princess, not matter how beautiful and lovely, can make him fall in love with her." He shrugged, taking a sip of the mead. "It's all the news in this town. Not surprising, since this city is the capital of this land."

"I see." Magnus sat back in his chair, pulling out a small flask from the folds of his cloak. It was the color of bronze, with various scratches and dents marring the smooth surface. He unscrewed the lid, taking a swig of the drink inside, before wincing and closing the flask, tucking the container back inside his cloak. Simon watched him, shaking his head.

"Sometimes I wonder if you're ever sober." He mused, and Magnus laughed.

"I've never met a man, sober or not, that could tell a better tale than me." He stated, kicking away from the table, his chair squeaking against the stone of the bar floor. He glanced at the bartender, who also served as the innkeeper for the building next door. "Did you pay for our room?" He asked, looking down at Simon. The musician nodded, and Magnus sighed in relief. "Then I'm off to dream up more lovely tales for the people of Lux Lignum. Good Night."

* * *

The following afternoon was bright and cheerful, the streets crowded with people. A perfect day for telling stories. Magnus stood in the center of the marketplace, reciting an old fairytale for a collection of children at his feet. Simon, having heard the tale before, was strumming a simple tune as he worked his way through the crowd, collecting bits of coin from the parents of the children, as well as other adults that were listening to the tale with interest. Magnus was too busy to care about the money, his hand outstretched in a fist, his pose like that of a knight in battle.

"And then," He continued, looking down at the children staring up at him rapt attention. "the witch appeared behind him in a cloud of black smoke!" The crowd gasped and Magnus whirled around, pointing his fist outwards. "But the hero, guided by the princess' magical stone, sensed the evil creature and spun to face her, smiting her with his sword!" There were several cheers from the children at this, as well as polite applause from the crowd. "He pulled the sword away, and the witch cursed his name, before crumbling away like dust in the wind. The hero, knowing now that the evil witch was gone, ran to the princess' room. He opened the door to her chambers, and found her asleep on her bed, her mind locked away by magic." Magnus knelt down by a small girl, her hair pulled back into pig tails, her brown eyes wide. "He walked towards her, kneeling down gently at her side." He smiled at her, offering her his hand. The girl blinked, taking a hold of his hand. "The hero looked at the princess and said 'Princess, oh, Princess, love of my life, please awake with true love's kiss." Magnus bent down, kissing the girl's ring finger. The girl jumped up, excited, and Magnus stood as well, grinning. "And so, the Princess awoke, and the spell was lifted! The entire kingdom rejoiced and the hero's name was remembered until the end of time!" He threw his hands up in the air to the loud applause of the crowd. The little girl ran around the circle of people, delighted.

"I'm a princess! A princess!" She cried, running over to her parents. A few of the kids jumped up and followed her, yelling loudly.

"And I'm the hero! Die witch!"

"No, _I'm_ the hero!"

"Can I be a princess too?" Magnus laughed, shaking his head as the crowd began to disperse, and Simon walked up to him, holding up the heavy sack of coins in one hand, his sitar in the other. It was unique, carved from a dark wood from the East. The instrument had been pretty banged up over the years, scratched and scuffed from Simon's travels, but it still produced a lovely sound that had impressed Magnus.

"A good haul, as usual." Simon was grinning, no doubt thinking about the large dinner they'd be having later that day. "Where do you come up with these stories?" Magnus grabbed the sack, opening it and staring down at the coins with interest. It would be enough to last for a few days, at the very least. He began to count the money, his mood only getting better.

"Places..." He replied mysteriously, pausing when he felt eyes on him. He looked up, searching the crowd. Most of the people had turned away, chatting with one another about everything from the season's harvest to the story Magnus had just shared with them. However, Magnus could make out a hooded individual from across the square. The figure stood alone, face hidden by the black cloak he wore. For a moment, he lifted his chin, and their eyes locked. Magnus saw blue eyes so bright it was like the night sky lit with stars. The stranger was a few years shy of a man, his skin fair and unblemished. Dark lashes ringed those blue eyes, matching the messy hair the boy possessed. Magnus blinked, completely enamored with the boy's appearance. The stranger paused, before turning away quickly, disappearing into the crowd. Magnus stared after him, jumping when Simon touched his shoulder.

"Magnus? Are you alright?" Simon asked, looking worried. Magnus blinked, looking at Simon, handing the musician the bag of coins. A familiar itch worked across the back of his eyes, and he reached into his cloak, pulling out the familiar bronze flask and taking a swig of the liquid inside. The itch receded and he looked back at Simon, nodding his head.

"I'm fine." He replied, Simon shook his head, holding up a scrap of paper to the man's face. Magnus paused, glancing at the paper. "What is it?" Simon was practically buzzing with excitement.

"An invitation. The Princess d'Lux Lignum is having her birthday party today. At sunset there will be a grand feast for all of the town on the castle grounds." Simon looked at the storyteller imploringly. "Free food, Magnus, made by royal chefs." Magnus shook his head, sighing.

"It's a wonder why I don't have to roll you around with all the food you eat." He saw the look on Simon's face and sighed. "Fine, we'll go. After all, I'm sure the people there will be looking for some entertainment." Simon cheered and began heading back to the hotel, no doubt already knowing exactly they were going to spend the money they'd just earned. Magnus turned away, staring across the crowd of people, searching for a familiar black cloak.

* * *

"Alexander! Where have you been?" Maryse called out, glaring down at her eldest son. As Queen d'Lux Lignum, Maryse's appearance was as impeccable as ever. Her gown was made of a rich blue fabric, delicate golden flowers embroidered across the folds of her skirt. The dress was cut demurely, in a straight line across the woman's shoulders, revealing the skin just under her collarbones, as well as the tops of her shoulders. A gold crown of twisted filigree sat on her head, braided through her hair elegantly. Alec, entirely used to seeing his mother in ornate gowns, dropped his gaze to the floor.

"...Out?" He tried, gripping the fabric of his cloak tightly. The Prince d'Lux Lignum was dressed in commoner's clothes, a simple white shirt, brown pants and black boots, all stained with dirt from traveling through the small, muddy drainage tunnel he and Isabelle had broken open when they were children. It was the only passage in and out of the castle that his parents didn't know about. The only way he and Isabelle got away from the strict lives their parents forced them to live. Maryse frowned, looking at his clothes in distaste.

"Out on the castle grounds, or farther out?" She asked, and Alec stared at the ground, knowing he was a horrible liar. Finally, his mother sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead. "It doesn't matter, so long as you weren't hurt." She looked at Alec, clearly disappointed. "Your sister's party starts in an hour, please hurry upstairs and get ready." Alec nodded once, ducking around his mother and running up the grand staircase that led to the family's royal chambers. Once he had cleared the stairwell, he turned to walk down the eastern hallway. The walls of the castle were a pristine white stone, something the servants have to scrub weekly, lest the shine fade. Chandeliers made of silver and crystal dotted the ceiling, illuminating the way to his section of the castle. At the end of the hall sat a grand door made of rosewood. He pushed the door open, entering his chambers and closing it behind him, leaning against it cool wood in exhaustion. He glanced over his chambers before closing his eyes once again.

His rooms were large, five in total, all with everything he could possibly need. First there was the main receiving room, where his servants and family members would enter to greet him in the morning (save Max, who dived into his bed to wake him up). Three plush, white couches were gathered in one corner, often used by visiting sons of noblemen for long discussions that Alec more or less didn't care about, silver birds embroidered into the white silk. An elegant rosewood table sat in the other, ringed by three ornate chairs with plush, white silk lining the seats. Most nights this was used by the prince and his siblings for eating dinner away from the strict manners of the dining hall. Large doors across the room opened up to let the sunlight in, leading out to a wide balcony carved from marble. To the left was a door leading to a large bathroom were one could freshen up, the walls covered in a light grey stone, a sink and other necessities carved from the same material. A mirror took up the entirety of one wall in the room. It was there that Alec would check himself over before heading out every morning. To the right was an small alcove, leading to his bedroom.

Tall bookshelves lined an entire wall, carved from rosewood (he really did enjoy the color of the wood), a small ladder pressed against the shelves so he could climb up and pull down books from the levels closer to the ceiling. The was a small space in the wall where books didn't cover. It was here that a door sat, leading to his own personal bath, carved from the same grey stone as his other washroom. On the other wall was a door leading to his wardrobe, so extensive it needed it's own room. Alec didn't enjoy the stuffy, princely outfits he was forced to wear whenever proper company came over. In the back of his closet he had a collection of commoner's clothes. He often wore them around the castle, until his mother caught him and nagged him to death about it.

In between the two doors sat a large bed, wide enough for seven men to sleep comfortably. The comforter was a rich blue, the sheets a sheer black, with silver threads embroidered into fantastic designs along the edges. Alec had spent his entire childhood with books crammed under the covers, trying to make the large bed seem smaller than it actually was, to spare him of the loneliness of sleeping in it at night. Save the bathrooms, all the walls were painted a deep blue, golden designs running across the middle of the them, streaking through the rooms like a beacon. The floor was covered in a thick, grey carpet the color of storm clouds, so soft that Alec could have slept there if he needed to.

It was that same carpet that Alec tracked mud all over, walking for to the bath. He dropped his cloak on the floor, followed quickly by his shirt. He entered his bedroom, taking the time to peel off his mud-stained boots, before pushing open the bathroom door, grabbing a book from one of the bookshelves as an after thought. His personal bath was, in all ways possible, amazing. The bath was a good third of the room, sunken into the floor, with steps leading down into the water. Silver lined the lip of the bath in delicate swirls, the designs memorizing to stare at. Heated water poured from a decorated metal spire fixed upside down into the ceiling, falling into the center of the bath like a waterfall, keeping the pool a comfortable temperature for the prince.

Alec walked over to the edge of the bath, setting the book down. He let his pants fall to the floor, before sliding into the water with a groan of satisfaction. The water came up to just above his navel, warm and completely perfect. He took a moment to wade over the collection of soaps and shampoos sitting in a small alcove in the corner of the bath, using them to scrub his hair and body clean, before he went back to his book, opening it carefully with his damp fingers. It was bound in leather, the old, thick paper crinkling where he touched it. Alec flipped through the pages, his eyes skimming over some of his favorite fairy tales as a child. As he read, his mind kept wandering to the colorful storyteller that had told his tale with such enthusiasm. Alec had dropped an entire bag of gold into the musician's pouch, too busy watching the performance to count out a smaller amount. He had stared as the man had kissed the little girl's hand, awed by the sincerity of his smile, wishing it had been his own hand the man had kissed. He had continued to look until the storyteller had noticed him, meeting his gaze across the crowd. The man's eyes had been black as pitch, threatening to swallow Alec whole.

Alec closed the book with a thump, pushing back from the lip of the bath, into the stream of water falling from the ceiling, closing his eyes. He wondered if he'd see the storyteller again, with his colorful cloak and exciting stories. He certainly hoped so.

A soft knocking at the bathroom door alerted Alec to someone's presence. A male servant entered after a few moments, setting down a towel and his wardrobe for the evening before disappearing out the door. Alec frowned, already seeing how heavy the fabric was from when he was sitting. With a sigh, he pushed away thoughts of colorful storytellers, opting instead for climbing out of the bath and walking over to retrieve the towel. Some members of the royal family liked have their servants dry them off after a bath. Alec was personal with his body, and didn't even want people in the room with him when he dressed. After toweling off, he dragged on the pair of pants, the fabric black and sleek, and leading all the way down to his ankles. He pulled on his dress shirt, also black, with silver buttons engraved with the royal crest. He buttoned this up, before sliding on a bright blue vest, no doubt picked out by Isabelle. He looked over the ornate jacket, black with gold braids running across the shoulders. It looked completely uncomfortable, and he decided to put that on at the last possible moment.

He walked back over to the bath, picking up his book, before making his way back to his bedroom and depositing it on his shelf. He was surprised to see Isabelle sitting on his bed, dressed in a bright green gown that was cut low enough to make any man's jaw drop. Her long, black hair was piled on her head in a collection of curls, held in check by a silver filigree tiara, revealing her slender neck for any prying eye.

"There you are!" Isabelle huffed, hopping off the bed, and walking over to Alec, her hands lifting up to fix the prince's tangled hair. "I was beginning to think you'd drowned in there." She stepped back, clearly satisfied with her work, before turning around once so that Alec could see the rest of her gown. The back was cut even lower than the front. "What do you think?" She asked, grinning widely. Alec shook his head.

"Honestly? Between father and I, there will be plenty of men to kill in the castle tonight." Isabelle laughed, stepping forward to rest a hand on Alec's arm.

"Be sure to get all of my potential suitors while you're at it." She stated, clearly excited. Alec couldn't blame her. Isabelle was turning sixteen this year, meaning that she could start receiving calls for marriage tomorrow at the earliest. Isabelle was more than happy to rot in the castle to a ripe, old age, but their father had different plans. He was already gathering the attention of neighboring kingdoms, looking to forge alliances in the oldest way possible. By marrying off his only daughter, or worse, marrying a princess to his eldest son, regardless of what either of them wanted. Alec was eighteen, old enough to marry in his father's eyes, and already princesses had started sending portraits of themselves to him. The portraits were beautiful, no doubt, but Alec couldn't find any particular girl he was attached to. Then again, it was hard to form a romantic bond with a bit of paper and paint. A part of him wondered if any of the girls even wanted to get married to him. He looked at his sister, ready to be dragged down the altar kicking and screaming, and smiled ruefully.

"I'll try." He promised, and Isabelle rose up on her toes to kiss his cheek.

"Good! Now, as for me, mother wants to look over my dress before I go out tonight, like that will happen. I'm leaving to mingle now, so be sure to join me soon!" Isabelle didn't wait for a response, all but running from the room in a whirl of green and black. Alec stared after her, before shaking his head. He pulled on a clean pair of boots, checking his hair in the mirror of the washroom. Isabelle had pushed his hair out of his face, letting the world see his pale skin and blue eyes. He frowned, smoothing out the dark locks until his forehead was covered, his bangs in his eyes. He pulled on his jacket reluctantly, prepared to spend the night wedged in a corner somewhere, hoping to not be noticed. He walked out of his room, jumping when he nearly ran over his own mother. Maryse looked over her son once, before sighing and straightening up the boy's jacket.

"You forgot your crown again, Alec." Maryse chided lightly, reaching up to fix Alec's hair. The prince sighed. "Really, you're eighteen now, try not to forget the very thing that defines who you are!" Alec looked at the ground, his heart aching. He didn't want a crown to be the thing that defined who he was. He wanted the people to look at him and know that he wasn't just a prince, he was a normal person that liked fairy tales and stories like any other human being. Maryse seemed to notice his distress, and she reached out, lifting her son's chin until their gazes met. "Listen to me. I know your father has been pushing you to choose a bride, and it's very difficult to try and guess from a collection of portraits, but you need to understand this: Your father wants to see you on the throne, ruling like he has for the past twenty years, with a woman by your side to support you." A weight settled in Alec's chest, and he looked back at the ground, nodding once. Maryse sighed, letting go of her son and turning to look down the hall. "Come down once you've gotten your crown, I'm off to find Isabelle before she disgraces the family, _again_."

"Alright, mother." Alec managed, disappearing back into his room. He walked towards his bed, pausing to look at the wall of books wistfully. He wondered, would his bride like to read too? He thought of spending the nights lying in bed, quoting Mother Goose and other stories, relaxing in each other's arms. He closed his eyes, trying to picture the girl's face in his mind, watching at the nameless figure shifted into a man with eyes black as pitch.

Alec's eyes snapped open, his heart pounding. He walked forward, kneeling down to reach under his bed, grabbing the silver circlet he'd received on his last birthday. All but jamming it onto his head, he strode out of the room, trying his best to leave thoughts of the storyteller behind.

Fate had other plans for tonight.

* * *

A/N: And so, the plot begins! I wrote the Prologue and Chapter 1 at the same time, but felt like they shouldn't be posted together. Next chapter is Happy Hour at Lightwood castle, complete with food, entertainment and Magnus getting royally (teehee) fucked over.

Reviews are adored~!


	3. Chapter 3

**The Prince and the Storyteller. Chapter 2.**

Fire burst into the air from the lips of a painted man. His skin was covered in bright, swirling designs, his limbs long and barely covered by the tight, blue cloth encasing him. Magnus watched as the man abandoned fire-breathing in exchange for standing on his hands, walking away on them as if they were his feet. The storyteller plucked at the warm, buttery roll in his hand, tossing a piece into his mouth and looking around.

People densely crowded the castle grounds. Townspeople and visitors in what could be considered party attire ate, danced and chatted loudly. Waves of every color imaginable, whether it was dyed silk or cotton, moved across the crumpled green grass, now littered with everything from food scraps to unconscious drunks. Magnus glanced down at his colorful clothes, a bright purple tunic and dark green pants, accompanied by his favorite (and only) cloak. He looked like he actually belonged in the group as he wandered around in search of Simon.

The storyteller looked up to the Castle d'Lux Lignum. It was made out of shining white stone that glowed in a light orange in the glow of the numerous bonfires encircling the castle. The stars shined brightly above, giving Magnus a taste of nostalgia. Maybe if the night sky was silver instead of a dark purple, the clouds a wispy emerald green...

Magnus squeezed his itching eyes shut, taking a gulp from his flask. His feet moved on their own, towards large, marble stairs staring at the large castle archway lined in gold. He walked through, entering the courtyard, looking at the lush green garden.

The white walls of the castle encased the large courtyard, small man-made streams running collections of large trees and bright flowers. A fountain sat in the middle of the carefully trimmed bushes, water pouring from the outstretched hands of a beautifully carved woman, marble robes trailing across her body. Magnus found himself walking to the fountain, the curves of her body hauntingly familiar. A nest of roses had been allowed to grow around the base of the fountain, their sharp thorns peeking out demurely from behind red buds. It was strangely appropriate. Magnus knelt down, closing his eyes, and inhaling the floral scent.

"_Here we are, Magnus. This will be your home now."_

"_This garden, Lady Camille?" _A gentle laugh echoed through the storyteller's mind, and a smile made its way to Magnus' face.

"_No, silly boy. This entire castle is your home. The garden, the rooms, wherever you can wish for, merely ask and I will give it to you." _

"Move, peasant." Magnus' eyes snapped open, that damning itch crawling across the his eyes. A grotesquely fat woman was standing beside him, her dress straining around her immense...volume. The color coral didn't suit her pale skin at all, though Magnus didn't think any color would until she stopped eating entire flocks of ducks in a single sitting. The woman sniffed, flicking a powdered curl from her wig out of her rogue-covered face. "Did you hear me? Or are you deaf?" Magnus, entirely used to dealing with angry women, merely smiled, stepping out of the way.

"My apologies, madam." He said, moving to the side. If anything, the noblewoman got even angrier.

"How dare you! I am still a madame, with suitors pouring out of the seams for me!" She snapped, before walking away, her hips knocking into the innocent plant life lining the path.

_That's not the only thing pouring out of the seams. _Magnus noted, studying the stretching fabric across the woman's backside. He stared after her for a moment longer, before shaking his head.

"You there!" Magnus groaned, turning to look at his next interruption. A soldier stood in an archway of the castle grounds, staring him down, a lance gripped tightly in his hand. His eyes were a fiery blue, his gray hair in long tangles. Armor was fitted to the man like scales, covering the front of his legs and arms, as well as his torso. He didn't wear the drab brown clothing of the ordinary city guards patrolling the grounds, but rather a pitch black fabric that gave off the aura of lethality. As the intimidating man stepped forward, Magnus caught sight of insignia carved into the metal over his heart. A wolf outlined in gold.

The Royal Guard.

Magnus paled, cursing his luck.

* * *

"A commoner trespassed into the courtyard?" Alec repeated, looking at the Captain of the Guard curiously. The man nodded, surprisingly relaxed around the Prince. It wasn't surprising, considering that Luke had been serving the royal family since before Alex was born.

"Alaric says he's a drunk. Shall I bring him to you?" The guard asked, and Alec gave him an annoyed look. The ornate jacket he was forced to wear made Alec sweat. He had been trying to sneak away for a few minutes just to get out of the thing when Luke had called out to him.

"Why isn't my father dealing with this, Luke?" Alec asked, running a hand through his hair, his fingers catching the silver circlet and nearly knocking it off his head. "Damn!" Luke looked at Alec with a touch of sympathy.

"He said you should handle it. He thought it'd be good to see how you dealt with the common man." Luke added at Alec's confused look. The color drained from Alec's face. His father was...testing him? "If I may make a suggestion..." Luke said slowly, noting the horror on Alec's face. Alec looked at him imploringly. "We've put him in a cell until you have time to deal with him. Perhaps you should hear the man's story?" Alec nodded in agreement, relieved for Luke's advice.

"Take me to him." Alec said, the uncomfortable heat of his jacket forgotten.

* * *

"Please." Magnus begged, his fingers wrapped tightly around the cold iron of the prison cell door. "My flask. All I need is a sip. Just a sip." The subtle itch behind his eyes had turned into a painful throb, matching Magnus' racing heart. He sat down on the hard stone floor, the smell of filth and mildew clogging his senses, making him nauseous. The soldiers watched over him, laughing as they dangled his flask a few inches from his face. The storyteller lunged forward, swiping for the container, only to have it be pulled from his reach at the last second.

"Typical of a drunk, craving his drink to the point of begging like a slave." The guard holding the container screwed open the flask, and Magnus' grip on the bars tightened, his eyes burning.

"Give it back!" He shouted, earning annoyed looks from the guardsmen. The other guard, clearly the older of the two, stepped forward.

"Who do you think you are?" He growled, knocking the tip of his lance against Magnus' cell door. Magnus winced, covering his eyes and letting out a shaky gasp. "Hey." The guard's brow furrowed. "What's wrong with you?" The other guard sniffed at the lip of the flask, wincing at the smell.

"This isn't like any mead I've smelled before." He coughed. "It smells unholy." He looked to the older man, before down at Magnus' shaking form. "Do you think he's ill? Should I call Gretel?" Both of the men jumped when the sound of a door scraping open echoed through the room. They turned, lances poised. Magnus looked up through the haze of pain, managing to make out metal and black.

The guards gave a rigid salute as Luke and Alec entered. The prince's gaze wandered over them, before his attention was caught by the sight of a familiar bright cloak behind iron bars. Alec stared down at fallen man, horror filling him.

"_You?_" He gasped, running over to the cell, falling down on his knees in front of the storyteller. "What are you doing here?" He asked, startled to see how pale the man was. "What's wrong?" The man moaned in pain, turning away and clutching at his eyes.

"My eyes. My flask." He managed, his body sagging forward. Alec looked around wildly, catching slight of the flask in the younger guard's hand.

"It that his?" He asked, rising to his feet. The young guard looked terrified.

"Y-yes..?" He said, his knuckles white around his lance.

"Give it to me!" Alec snatched the flask from the guard's hand, whirling back around to face the storyteller. "Open the door, now!"

"Yes, sir!" The older guard pulled a key from his pocket, moving to unlock the door. Alec pushed past him, kneeling down next to the storyteller, holding the flask under the man's mouth. The stranger grabbed at the flask, taking a greedy swallow of the liquid. The man's eyes focused on Alec's, and for a second Alec thought he saw bright golden flecks swirling in the storyteller's eyes. He blinked and it was gone, the man's eyes a steady black.

"You..." The storyteller said, and Alec shudder at the low tone of the man's voice.

"Your Majesty." Luke entered the cell, grabbing the drunk by the cloak and dragging him away a few feet away from Alec. "You need to be more careful." He chastised lightly, much like a disapproving uncle. "He could have been faking his illness or-"

"Please, be quiet Luke." The Captain looked astonished. "I know this man." Alec moved over, placing a hand on the storyteller's shoulder. "Are you alright?" He asked gently. The man looked back at him, his dark eyes wide and alert.

"You're the boy from the marketplace." He said, looking confused. Alec felt his cheeks darken.

_He remembers me?_

"How dare you address the Prince d'Lux Lignum that way!" The older guard snapped, stepping forward. The storyteller turned to the guard, bewildered.

"Prince?" He repeated, before his gaze went back to Alec. "..._Prince?_" He said, as if asking Alec whether or not it was true. Unexpectedly, Alec felt a surge of pride at the title. It was something he could impress the man with, talk to him about. Alec turned to face the guard, feeling more confident then he ever remembered.

"How dare you address_ my friend_ that way." Alec's voice was stern, and he suddenly remembered the benefits of being royalty. Being able to do whatever you want, so longer as your parents didn't say otherwise. "As of this moment, he is my personal guest. Have him cleaned up and sent to my chambers." Alec looked back to the storyteller, offering him a smile. "It's going to be alright."

"The Prince..." The man said in reply, looking somewhat dazed. "You're the Prince d' Lux Lignum..." Luke stepped forward, attracting Alec's attention.

"The king will have to know about this." Luke said. It wasn't a threat, just a simple statement. Alec stared down at the storyteller for a moment longer before he pulled away, rising to his feet.

"He will." Alec said. "And I will tell him personally." Courage filled him, a foreign warmth in his chest. He turned to face the prison doors, walking through the iron bars and towards the stairs.

* * *

Magnus knew that the royal family was expected to have the best of the best, but he'd never known how good "the best" really was. The water of his tub was hot to the point that his skin felt on fire, the steam blinding his eyes. He'd been forcibly stripped and shoved into the over-sized wooden bucket by a collection of grabby, middle-aged servants, nearly jumping out of the hot water like a cat. After making sure Magnus stayed seated in the scalding liquid, regardless of his complaints, the women tasked themselves with scrubbing every inch of his body clean.

Every.

Single.

Inch.

Clean and completely violated, Magnus had been dragged out of the cramped, hot hell that was the servant's bathroom, and shoved into another room. The walls were uneven stone and windowless, only this time instead of cell doors and horrible guards, there were small, simple beds and more nosy women. Magnus' personal preference for mating partners was quickly dwindling down to black-haired, blue-eyed boys that apparently ruled the land from Sea of Lyn to Raziel's Mount.

The maids were all giving him the eye, and he tightened his grip on the scrap of cloth around his hips, staring back at them evenly. Another woman entered the room, her hair shockingly pale. She was small and dainty, her eyes serious.

"Stop staring and give him some proper clothes." She snapped at the girls, causing them to scurry into action. She turned to face Magnus and bowed her head. "I apologize for the rough treatment, sir, however, you're current situation is...unique." Magnus looked at her in confusion, before taking a pile of clothing from a young maid. He looked down at the drab black tunic, with matching dark pants, and frowned.

"What's wrong with my own clothes?" The storyteller asked in confusion. Gretel straightened her shoulders, looking at Magnus.

"As the Prince's personal guest, an untidy appearance can reflect poorly on His Majesty." Magnus stared at her. Gretel looked over her shoulder, and Magnus caught sight of his cloak buried along with a collection of other scraps in a basket being held by a maid. "They're extremely worn, and will be burned. If you need other garments merely tell me and I will procure them for you."

"No!" Magnus shouted, running towards the startled maid and dragging the cloak from the pile of dirty clothes. Gretel looked shocked, not that Magnus cared. The young maid was staring at Magnus as well, before she recovered enough to speak.

"What's wrong?" The maid looked completely confused, if not envious. "You can just tell the Prince to buy you a new one." Magnus felt a tinge of annoyance at the girl's tone. Great, so he was the Prince's personal entertainment for the evening. He thought back to the boy's bright eyes in the marketplace, the way he had supported Magnus while giving him his flask. Had it been an act? Magnus's fingers dug into the fabric of his cloak, closing his eyes.

"I don't want another cloak. I've made a pet out of this one." Magnus said, opening his eyes and hugging the cloak to him, not minding the smell at all.

"A pet?" The maid repeated, now looking somewhat concerned. Magnus nodded his head.

"Yes, his name is Chairman Meow. I made him two years ago. On the night of the full moon he turns into a white cat and sings along with my companion's sitar music." The maid looked completely alarmed. Good. With any luck, the news that Magnus was a complete lunatic would reach the Prince before he himself did. Magnus sat down on the bed, brushing his cloak for good measure, plucking at the fraying edges. He noticed Gretel staring at him and smiled coldly at her. To his surprise, the woman smiled back, a thread of laughter in her eyes.

"I'll be taking you to Prince Alexander's chambers now." She said, moving towards the door. Magnus stared after her for a moment, before following.

* * *

Magnus entered a room of blue, grey and white, streaks of gold running across the walls, the metal shining in the light of numerous candles seated on tables and holders on the floor. He looked back over his shoulder, only to see Gretel closing the door behind him. Magnus looked out over the room, noticing an alcove cut into the right wall, more light shining through the opening. Magnus walked towards the alcove, peering inside curiously. An enormous bed dominated the room, a wall of books on one side, a bare door on the other. Seated on the bed was the Prince, a circle of books around him, his head bowed as he read by candlelight. Magnus was shocked to see that instead of rich silk robes or some sort of embroidered masterpiece, the teen was dressed in commoner's clothes. A simple white tunic and dark brown breeches, his feet completely bare. He looked...normal.

The Prince must have felt eyes on him, because the teen looked up then. He looked like the boy Magnus had met out in the marketplace, the light of the candles flickering in his eyes like starlight. He looked confused, then surprised, then completely embarrassed. He gathered up the books, shoving them under the massive pile of pillows at the head of his bed, before looking back to Magnus. Magnus resisted the urge to smile, bowing his head politely.

"Your Majesty." He greeted formally, before straightening up, looking to see Alec frowning.

"Please don't call me that." Alec said, looking uncomfortable. "It's just Alec. I don't like the formalities." Magnus merely smiled politely. Alec looked away. "I'm serious." Apparently the prince didn't like overly formal lovers. Magnus let his smile drop.

"Well, I suppose we might as well get down to business then." Magnus said, letting his cloak fall into a pool of colors on the floor. He grabbed the bottom of the black tunic, tugging the boring material up to his chest, pausing when he heard the prince yell.

"W-w-what are you d-doing?!" Alec screeched, digging his heels into the bed, pushing away from the storyteller. Magnus blinked, his hands going limp on on his shirt.

"You...aren't looking for sex?" The Prince was pressed back against the headboard, his blue eyes wide, his face completely red.

"S...se...I-I just-a story! I wanted a _story_! Not s...se...!" Magnus stepped forward when the prince began to hyperventilate.

"Are you okay?" Magnus asked, alarmed. Alec shook his head, covering his eyes. He was cowering on the bed, looking completely traumatized. The storyteller actually felt bad.

"Please get dressed!" Alec said shakily, refusing to look at the man until Magnus pulled his shirt back down.

"There." The storyteller said, grinning when Alec nervously peeked at him from between his fingers. "I didn't mean to alarm you. I'm sorry, your Majesty." Alec didn't reprimand him and looked at the man, still wary. Silence stretched out between them for a long moment, and Magnus wondered if he should say something, when the prince suddenly spoke.

"Does your cloak really turn into a cat on the full moon?" He asked, earning a surprised look from Magnus.

"You actually believed that?" He asked with wide eyes. Alec sniffed, looking away, his fingers gripping the material of his pants tightly.

"Just because I've never seen something before, doesn't mean it can't happen." He replied evenly. Magnus found himself observing the almost delicate curve of the prince's neck. He really was beautiful. The storyteller had seen gardens filled with beautiful Fae, and seas of lovely mermaids. All of them seemed to fade from his mind whenever Alec met his gaze.

"That's an excellent standing to take on anything in today's world." Magnus agreed, stepping forward to the side of Alec's bed. "May I?" He asked, gesturing to the bed and earning a small smile from Alec.

"Sure." Alec said, shifting over so that Magnus could sit. The storyteller sat down on the edge of the bed, surprised at the softness of the sheets. Magnus looked back at Alec.

"So you want to hear a story?" Magnus asked, grinning when Alec nodded. He looked so innocent, his blue eyes shining. It was like talking to a child. "Anything in particular? I've never entertained royalty before." His gaze wandered to the wall of books to his right, smiling when he remembered the books hiding under the boy's pillows.

"You did in the marketplace. I liked that story." Alec shrugged his shoulders, before settling back in bed, propped up by the plush, embroidered pillows that covered the top of his bed. He was blunt too, nothing like the nobles from Magnus' tales, who all craft and guile.

"Well then..." Magnus paused, as if considering. "How about I tell you the tale of a Boy that fell in love with a beautiful Enchantress?" Alec looked interested.

"Do they live happily ever after?" He asked, and Magnus smiled, his dark eyes sad, a faint shine to them.

"You'll just have to wait and see." He replied, his tone teasing.

* * *

A/N: Wow! You guys love this story! I'm so glad you do, because this is all my mind's giving me in terms of muse. Life's been a bit dramatic lately, but I'm still chugging forward!

Reviews are loved!


	4. Chapter 4

**The Prince and the Storyteller. Chapter 3.**

_Once upon a time, a simple Farm Boy met an Old Woman. Her gray hair was in knots, her clothing wrinkled and stained. The Old Woman reached out to the Farm Boy, begging for the loaf of bread in his hand. But this Farm Boy came from a poor family, and the loaf of bread this Old Woman asked for was the only meal he would have for the entire day. Out of kindness, the Farm Boy gave the Old Woman the loaf of bread, forgoing his meal for the day. Suddenly the Old Woman transformed into a beautiful Enchantress. Her hair was the color of spun gold, her eyes like that of emeralds, shining with magic's light. Her gown twinkled like sewn crystal, floating in the air like the lightest of silk. The Enchantress thanked the Farm Boy and told him this:_

"_Little one, for your kind act I will grant you one wish. What is it that you wish for?" The Farm Boy looked up at the beautiful Enchantress and fell in love, as any human would when confronted by such beauty._

"_I want to stay by your side forever." The Farm Boy replied. The Enchantress merely smiled and offered him her hand. The Farm Boy took it, and with a wave of her wand they flew away from the Farm Boy's poor home, to a Land of Magic and Dreams._

"They lived in a castle even grander this one. With seas and snow-capped mountains within it's walls, along with everything else that the Boy could have wanted." Magnus paused, his hand resting on Alec's chest. "Well, almost everything."

"What was missing?" Alec asked, staring up at the storyteller. Magnus looked down at the prince with a quiet smile. Alec's head was nestled in his lap, the rest of the boy's body sprawled out across the large comforter. The prince looked tired, which Magnus didn't mind at all. This was a children's bedtime tale, though reality tinged the words darker then Alec could possibly know.

"True love." Magnus said, closing his eyes. It had been hours since his last of sip of the Moonshade potion, but still the warning itch still hadn't come to him. The thought made him shudder. "The Enchantress' affections…wandered…even after the Farm Boy had grown into a Man. So the Man left her. He traveled across the Land of Magic and Dreams, flying in skies full of dragons, swimming through seas overflowing with merpeople, and walking about forests teeming from anything from faeries to werewolves."

"Didn't the Enchantress go after him?" Alec wondered aloud, yawning and turning his face into the soft fabric of Magnus' shirt. Magnus brushed his fingers through Alec's hair, not saying anything. Alec looked up at him, blinking. "Magnus?"

"She did." Magnus replied softly, his gaze distant. Slowly he returned to Alec. "But that's a story for another time. You should rest, your Majesty. I'm sure you have royal duties coming for you with the rise of the sun." Alec looked disappointed, but the fact that he didn't argue told Magnus he was right.

"Will you tell me the ending tomorrow?" Alec asked, moving his head off the storyteller's lap to one of his pillows.

"Tomorrow." Magnus promised, grinning down at Alec. The prince smiled, reaching out to grab Magnus' hand when the storyteller went to move off the bed. "Your Highness?"

"Can you sleep here?" Alec asked, and Magnus hesitated. He had originally expected to spend the night in the Prince's bed, but sleeping hadn't been part of the plan. At all. "If you don't want to, it's fine. But…" Alec looked down to where his hand was wrapped around Magnus' wrist. He quickly it let go. Magnus watched as Alec turned around, curling up on his side. "I'm sorry. It's fine. You may go." The prince said stiffly, his shoulders hunched. Magnus knew enough royal tongue to know that Alec was dismissing him. He thought back to those starry eyes back in the marketplace, and considered the lack of the itch in his own. Magnus pulled down the comforter, sitting down on the soft sheets underneath. He saw Alec's shoulders shift out of the corner of his eye, and he took a chance by lying down on his back, his head sinking into the plush pillows that lined the top of the prince's bed. After a moment Alec rolled over onto his back as well, his face turned to look at Magnus silently.

"Are you going to toss me in prison?" Magnus asked, his tone completely serious. Alec laughed, a brief, radiant sound that stunned the storyteller's senses.

"If I did, I'd never hear the end of your story." Alec said with a small smile, rolling over to face at Magnus fully. The storyteller grinned, turning to meet him.

* * *

Alec dove over the flash of steel, landing on his feet and rolling into a crouch. He turned to face his opponent, laughing when Max spun around with the force of his own blade. The elder prince was dressed in the black leathers of his armor, the golden insignia of the royal family embroidered into the front of the tunic. The steel plate mail that usually went over his torso was lying against the far wall. It was too bulky to be useful right now, and Alec had always preferred agility over brute strength. He better with a bow and arrow then with any sword, but he had promised to teach Max a few things about swordplay, and so he would. He stood back when Max turned to face him, his younger brother's glasses falling down the bridge of his nose. The young prince wore a white dress shirt and green breeches, both significantly dirty at this point. Max was too young to go to battle, therefore too young to get his own armor to practice. Honestly, Alec preferred it that way.

"You're using too much force." He said, pointing the tip of his arming sword at Max's own. "If I was the enemy I would have been able to cut you in two when you spun around." Max pushed his dark hair away from his sweat-streaked face, before knocking Alec's sword away with his saber, excitement glittering in his eyes.

"One more time!" Max yelled, lunging forward. Alec waited until his younger sibling's sword was just inches away from his own chest, before ducking around and behind him, dropping his sword in favor of grabbing Max around the waist and hauling him up off the floor. Max yelled in laughter, his saber clattering to the ground as his hands went to Alec's arms, trying to pry himself loose. Alec was stronger though, not surprisingly, and he easily walked over the black and white marble floors of the royal training room with a squirming Max in hand. Passing by the racks of gilded weapons that lined the walls, he went to the large indentation cut into the corner of the room. Water poured into the basin through carefully carved cracks in the alabaster walls. It was large enough for the both of them, and Alec didn't hesitate to jump in, the cold shocking his body. He broke the surface, shaking the wet hair out of his eyes, laughing while Max sputtered in the protection of his arms.

"Come on, let's get changed and meet Izzy for lunch." Alec said, setting Max on the lip of the pool, coughing in surprise when Max kicked a wave of water at his face.

"Last one there has to listen to her complain about her suitors!" Max called over his shoulder, already running for the door, splashing water all over the floor while he was at it. Alec shook his head, wiping at his eyes with his hands. He jumped when something soft and warm was pressed against his cheek. He dropped his hands, looking up to see Magnus grinning at him, towel in hand. The storyteller was dressed in a lavender dress shirt, the buttons a distinct green. The hem of his bright blue pants brushed against his ankles, the golden leather of the man's boots peeking over from underneath. Alec hadn't minded requesting such colorful clothing for Magnus when the storyteller had shyly asked for some. He looked better in bright colors then the conservative black clothing of the royal attendants. Conservative didn't suit him at all.

"You fight well, your Highness." Magnus complimented, running the towel down Alec's cheek. The prince laughed, stepping out of the pool, water spilling onto the floor. Already the castle maids were working to wipe up Max's trail of water, not that Alec wouldn't be making his own soon. Alec took the bath towel from Magnus, pulling it around his shoulders.

"Against a nine-year-old, sure." Alec said, grinning at Magnus. It'd been over a week since Magnus had arrived at the castle, and the storyteller was quickly becoming a key part of Alec's life. Magnus was often by his side, humoring Alec with stories whenever the stress of being next in line for the throne became too much, as well as reminding him of many things on his busy schedule. Alec walked for the door to the training room, Magnus following him down the tapestry lined halls of the South Wing.

Waves of embroidered fabric told the history of the royal family, as far back as the First Great War. Black, silver and gold were used to show the noble family and their allies, angels flying overhead in protection. Their enemies were dyed blood red and muddy brown, their expressions savage, demons pouring out of the seams underneath their feet. There was something haunting about the tapestries, a chilling beauty that both drew Alec closer while pushing him away.

"Your father wished to speak to you today, before lunch if I remember correctly." Magnus said, dragging Alec's attention back to the storyteller. He glanced down at his soaking clothes, before nodding, fighting the tingle of nerves that spread through him whenever his father sought him out.

"Once I get changed then." Alec said as they turned into the East Wing. A few passing servants gave him brief glances, but the only one who looked him in the eye was Magnus. The storyteller held open the door for the prince and Alec stepped into his chambers. He tugged the black leather tunic over his head, letting it drop to the floor. He heard the door close behind him, followed by Magnus' soft footsteps. The prince walked through the alcove into his bedroom, kicking off his boots before opening his wardrobe. Fabrics in every color lined the walls of the large room, several rosewood bureaus full of accessories, from boots to jewelry dotting the floor like grand columns. Alec walked towards the west wall first, frowning. He couldn't just show up in the common clothing he preferred. His father would be expecting his son, the Prince d' Lux Lignum, in all his glory. He heard Magnus enter after him, and he looked at the storyteller. "What should I wear?" He asked, pinching a length of what he assumed was a fur-lined cloak between his fingers. Magnus made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded suspiciously like gagged laughter. Alec felt his cheeks darken and he sent the storyteller a glare. Magnus merely smiled at him.

"You should wear blue. It brings out your eyes," Magnus said, his own dark eyes glittering, "your Highness." He added quickly.

"That's what Isabelle says all the time." Alec replied, shrugging his shoulders and turning back to the rows of clothing.

"If I may suggest…" Alec looked over to see Magnus farther down the wall, pulling out a light blue dress shirt, showing it to the prince. "This one?" Alec supposed it didn't look too bad.

"So long as it's not stuffy, I don't care." Alec said, walking over to Magnus. He rubbed the towel against his damp hair, looking thoroughly put out by the prospect of picking out his own clothing. "Could you put something decent together for me? I need to get out of these clothes…please?" Magnus looked surprised.

"Of course." Magnus replied, turning back to the wall of clothing. Alec could see the way his fingers shook slightly and wondered what was wrong. "I'll find you something, you should dry off before you catch a cold." Alec paused, before exiting his wardrobe and heading for the bedroom.

* * *

The walls of the King d'Lux Lignum's study were lined with more animal fur than books, the old tomes sitting unused on shelves that would have most certainly collected dust if the maids didn't clean them twice a day. The floor was gold with lines of onyx cut into curves and letters, every detail perfect. They formed a map of all the Shadow Kingdoms across the continent and beyond. The reclusive Kingdom d'Nocte Vinum stretched into the mountains of the far north, the rich d'Via Terra present in the plains in the distant south. Even d'Calamum Sancti, a small Isle in the middle of Sea of Lyn was visible along the east. In the center of the room, where the Kingdom d'Lux Lignum would have sat, was a large desk carved from onyx. A throne of the same gem gleamed behind it, a man sitting in the seat. A large golden crown with rubies as large as a robin's eggs glittered on the man's head, making the lines of grey in his hair stand out even more. King Robert d'Lux Lignum looked like he was bathed in sunlight, his robes a swarm of gold, red and orange that flickered like candlelight when he stood. Black fur lined the fabric, trailing across the floor as the man circled his desk. His shining boots cast a ray of light across the floor, peeking from between the folds of his garments. Steady blue eyes focused on Alec, their gaze intense.

Magnus watched as Alec's back straightened. The jet-black satin coat Alec wore shimmered, the blue of his shirt peeking out over the collar, as was proper. His pants were black too, trailing down to his ankles, his boots, shined minutes ago by an attendant outside, just as pristine as his father's. His hair was combed away from his face, the silver circlet perched neatly on top of his head. He looked completely miserable and uncomfortable. The storyteller felt only a touch of shame in secretly admitting that Alec had looked far better in his room earlier, shirtless and dripping wet. Magnus stood off in the corner of the study with the King's Royal Attendant, an older man with blonde hair and warm eyes. The pair exchanged a brief glance before focusing back on their charges.

"Alexander." Robert said by way of greeting, moving to stand a few feet in front of Alec. "I must say, I was expecting you earlier." If it was possible, Alec's back went even more rigid, and the prince nodded his head in apology. "I've spoken with your tutors personally, and, of course, they say you are nothing but exemplary." Robert paused, "Save your history tutor. He tells me that you have a habit of falling asleep during his readings. Is that true?" The flare of color across Alec's cheeks said everything, and Magnus felt a pang in his chest. Robert sent his son a cool glance before turning to walk towards the imposing desk in the center of the room. "History is important, Alexander. Our family's history, our accomplishments, our failures, you have to learn and remember these things for when you sit at this desk." Robert sat down in the throne, gesturing Alec forward. The prince moved like a soldier, his shoulders stiff, his knees straight, until he reached the other side of the desk. "Which is why I've called you here. Have you even looked at your potential queens?" Magnus' eyes widened a fraction, shock racing through him. Alec was looking for a _bride_? His mind whirled as he relived the past week. Alec's shy smiles and gentle laughter. The focus on the teen's face when he drew an arrow. The protective light in his eyes when he was with Isabelle and Max. Magnus couldn't say he was surprised that Alec was looking for a queen, in fact, he wondered why they weren't lining up at the castle doors for his attentions.

_But, why am I here?_ Magnus wondered, his gaze falling down to the golden map shining across the floor. Alec had never said the storyteller couldn't leave. He could be off with Simon, in d'Nocte Umbra, or even exchanging tales with sailors in d'Corvus Cicatrix. What purpose did he have in the prince's life? A common act of rebellion before being chained to a woman for the rest of his life?

"I have…" Alec said, his voice surprisingly small. Magnus looked back at the Prince, at the slender curve of his back, the intense blue of his eyes. _Oh, that's right._ "It's hard to figure out who would be an ideal companion based on their portraits, sir." Robert waved Alec's words away, shaking his head. He busied himself with a neat collection of papers on the desk.

"Portraits don't matter. You have to look at their kingdom, Alexander. How rich they are, where they're located, what can we gain? Love doesn't matter in these negotiations." Robert picked up one paper in particular. "Now, for example, take a look at the youngest daughter of the Kingdom d'Herodii Vallis. Last year's exports from their port city alone were-"

"Is that how you chose mother?" Alec cut him off, looking mildly horrified. The was a brief pause, before Magnus felt tension flood the room, the Royal Attendant going so far as to take a step forward. The storyteller stood frozen as Robert slowly lifted his gaze to focus on Alec entirely. Silence reigned as the king merely looked at his eldest child. Alec dropped his gaze, ashamed. "I'm sorry, father. Sir. It's just-"

"I chose your mother, because at the time it was what was best for this kingdom, Alexander." Robert's voice was icy. "I choose now, because my eldest son is ignoring his duties in order to spend his days playing knights and bandits with his younger siblings." Alec's face grew dark and he closed his eyes. "Without a queen by your side, you can't hope to rule. You can't hope to bear children that will carry on when you're gone. The entire dynasty will fall because of you, is that what you want?" Robert asked.

"No, sir." Alec replied softly, his shoulders shaking. Magnus closed his eyes, the ache in his chest throbbing steadily.

"Then stop playing with your common toys and find a proper companion." The storyteller eyes snapped open at the king's words. He looked up and saw that Robert's blue eyes were fixed on him. Magnus wilted under the harsh gaze of the king, before he hastily dropped his gaze to the golden floor.

"Yes, sir." Robert looked back over to see Alec looking at him, the prince's jaw tight. Robert studied Alec for a moment longer, before looking back down at the papers on his desk.

"You may leave."

* * *

Alec clawed at the buttons of his jacket, yanking the black satin from his arms and tossing the clothing on the floor. He grabbed the silver circlet on his head and flung the crown across the room, his breathing a scattered collection of shaky gasps. His chest felt like it was about to burst, the pain so great he couldn't think properly. He felt a hand on his shoulder and Alec whirled around.

Magnus.

Alec stared at the storyteller's relaxed face.

"Why are you so calm? The things he said…he called you a 'common toy'!" He shouted, ready to turn away and destroy his own wardrobe. He wanted to rip every scrap of princely clothing to shreds. To take a knife to every rich fur cloak. To break all the elegant jewelry he possessed in half. He jerked back in surprise when Magnus grabbed onto his wrist, forcibly pulling him back around. The storyteller was stronger then Alec had expected.

"Am I a common toy?" Magnus asked evenly, his voice slow and careful. Alec was shocked.

"_No!_" He shouted, yanking his wrist from Magnus' grip. "Of course you're not, how could even think that, I-that I would-"

"Then it's fine." Magnus answered gently. His eyes were full of a warmth that burned away the pain in Alec's chest, leaving his body weak and shaking. "I don't care what the king thinks, your Highness. I only care for you." Magnus captured Alec's hand once again, this time tangling their fingers together. He reached out to grip Alec's hip with his other hand, pulling the prince closer.

"Magnus…?" Alec murmured, his eyes wide. Suddenly Magnus' lips were on his. The storyteller's mouth was even hotter then his gaze. Alec's eyes slid closed on their own, and he moved against Magnus instinctively, his free hand gripping the light fabric of Magnus' shirt. The kiss was chaste, and when the storyteller pulled back Alec blinked up at him in a daze. The smile on Magnus' face would have put demons to shame.

* * *

A/N: Yay for the first Malec kiss of the story! I'm finding that my muse for this story is chugging along like a runaway freight train, so expect updates!

Reviews are always loved!


	5. Chapter 5

**The Prince and the Storyteller. Chapter 4.**

"And then he kissed me again." Alec breathed, looking at Isabelle with wide eyes. His sister stared back at him in mild awe, dressed in a silver gown that flowed from her shoulders like mercury. Her hair was down her back in a neat wave, the tiara absent from her head. Alec was dressed in his preferred attire, a simple pair of dark blue breeches (Magnus had insisted on a bit of color) and a black tunic. They were sitting on Alec's bed, having moved there from the table in his receiving room after lunch. Max had fled a long time ago, the moment Isabelle had mentioned one Lord Eric. The lord's son thought he could win her affections by writing her vulgar poetry, and Isabelle was hardly impressed. Alec had cut his little sister off the second Max had left, gushing out the events of scarcely two hours ago. Isabelle had gaped at him, before demanding a recant, but slower and with more detail.

So Alec had told her everything, about the talk with their father and what had followed.

"Let me get this straight..." Isabelle said slowly, holding up a hand. Alec noted that her usually unadorned index finger had a small buttercup flower braided around it. It was probably a gift from Max. "Your storyteller said that he doesn't care what father thinks, only what you think, and then he kisses you?" Alec nodded his head rapidly, his heart still swarming like a flock of small, delicate birds locked away in his chest. "That's so romantic!" She gasped excitedly, smiling broadly at her brother. "So, when are you eloping?" Alec paused, looking at Isabelle in confusion.

"Eloping?" He repeated, watching as Isabelle rolled her eyes.

"Yes, eloping. Escaping into the sunset. Going off to live your lives together in a simple small town far, far away...understand?" Alec flushed.

"I know what eloping is, Izzy." He retorted, shaking his head. "I just can't...leave. I'm the heir to the throne!" The thought didn't sit well with him at all. "I have a duty, I just can't run off with Magnus into the sunset." Isabelle looked at him then, somewhat disappointed.

"Then what about choosing a bride? I doubt father would let you marry a commoner, much less a_ male_ commoner." A chill ran through Alec's body, the cold ensnaring the tiny birds in his chest and felling them like stones.

"I...I don't know..." He admitted, looking down at the comforter. What was he supposed to do?

* * *

The grey stone walls of the prince's washroom were dyed with a crackling blue hue. Magnus gripped the edge of the marble sink, blue sparks falling off of him in waves. They hit the floor in little sizzling bursts, before disappearing with a dying hiss. The storyteller didn't pay them any mind, his body rigid as he looked into the mirror.

No.

_No._

His reflection stared back at him. His black hair in disarray from pushing it out of his face. The storyteller's eyes were bright gold, the pupil bent and twisted like that of a cat.

Of a monster.

Magnus shoved away from the mirror, looking away.

"The Itch receded...I went a full week without using the potion...what's going on?" Magnus asked, covering his eyes with his hands. He jumped when a knock sounded on the door.

"Magnus?" Alec's voice called out, and the doorknob jingled. "Is something wrong?" Magnus snatched the flask from off the edge of the sink, draining it of the contents. A dark weight built on his tongue, choking him before it spread up to his skull and into his eyes. The potion's magic covered him like a veil, and Magnus watched in the mirror as the golden irises receded into a pitch black vortex. The door clicked open and Alec walked in, his gaze dropping to the flask. The prince paused, worry filling his eyes. Magnus couldn't help but smile grimly at the touch of concern. He wondered how Alec would feel knowing he was providing room and board to a monster.

"I'm fine, your Majesty." Magnus answered, screwing the lid back on the bronze container, turning to face prince had a doubtful look on his face, and Magnus offered him a smile. "Really, I am. How is the Princess?" Alec rolled his eyes, successfully distracted.

"Izzy has received over thirty letters in the past week from various suitors seeking her hand." Alec said, turning to exit the bathroom. Isabelle had left just a few minutes ago, meaning the two were alone in the room. Magnus' lip twitched, and he followed Alec as he made his way to the bed.

"And how did her Highness react?"

"She burned every single one." Alec replied, collapsing onto the bed with a sigh. "I wish I could do the same." Magnus blinked when Alec looked at him from the corner of his eye. A tingle of warmth bloomed in his chest from the prince's attentions. The storyteller moved to sit next to Alec on the bed. Alec turned on his side, facing Magnus, his blue eyes full of a haze of emotions that Magnus couldn't pick apart fast enough. The prince sat up suddenly. "You never told me the end to that story." The storyteller paused, caught.

"Which story?" Magnus asked delicately. Alec frowned at him, looking annoyed. Even though Magnus knew Alec could sentence him to death with a word, he couldn't help but find the expression adorable on the prince.

"The one with the Man and the Enchantress. You promised to tell me the end! Do they live happily ever after?" Alec asked, if not with a touch of desperation. Magnus sighed, looking to the row of bookshelves on the prince's wall.

"That's what I'd like to know." He muttered, reaching up to rub at his eyes.

* * *

Isabelle walked along the crowded streets of the capital city, her white cloak pulled over her dark hair. Her skirt was no longer the silvery velvet of this morning, but rather a plain, brown cotton, paired with a white shirt that would have been a crime against her appearance if she hadn't wrapped a colorful scarf around her slim waist, pulling the fabric tight enough to show off her curves.

If you had something worth showing, why hide it?

She made her way to the bazaar, looking around, her ears listening intently to the din of the marketplace. She caught it then, faintly at first, but as she walked closer to the center of the square, music drifted into her ears. It was a quiet, slow tune, and Isabelle followed the melody to a simple boy dressed in drab brown clothing, a sitar in hand. When her shadow passed over his face, he looked up, meeting her gaze. His fingers faltered on the strings of the instrument, messing up the easy melody he'd been playing.

"Izzy?" He said, and Isabelle couldn't help but smile as she lowered the hood of her cloak.

"Simon. I was looking for you." She greeted, moving to sit next to the musician. Simon smiled, setting the sitar down and turning his attention to the girl.

"You were?" He repeated, his voice almost teasing. Isabelle lifted her chin, her cheeks darkening just a bit.

"Yes, but if you didn't want to know about your friend then I guess I could just get back to work at the castle." She sniffed, seeing the concern that rose in Simon's eyes.

"Is Magnus okay?" Simon asked, leaning forward and looking at her urgently. He was near enough that the princess could smell the scent of the earth around him. Isabelle paused, shocked at the closeness. Did commoners always invade someone's personal space like this? She was used to formal distances, with the exception of her family, of course. Simon must have seen the discomfort on her face, because he leaned back, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you." Isabelle frowned.

"You didn't frighten me." She replied curtly, surprised to realize that it was true. She hadn't even felt remotely endangered when he'd been near her. To Simon, Isabelle was a simple servant girl from the castle he'd come across in search of Magnus a few days ago. A way of checking up on his friend, certainly not a princess a princess to ransom or harm. To Isabelle, Simon was...

She ran her thumb against the bare skin of her index finger.

"I was...well, Magnus is doing fine. The Prince d'Lux Lignum seems to like him." She said, thinking to the conversation she'd had earlier with her brother.

"Really?" Simon looked only slightly impressed. "If anyone could get through to him, it'd be Magnus." He added confidently.

"What makes you say that?" Isabelle asked, confused.

"The Prince is supposed to be cold-hearted, right? From what I've heard in this town, at least. He doesn't seem to want anyone for a wife, but Magnus...Magnus has this shine to him, this light. I'm wouldn't be surprised if he managed to melt his way into the Prince's heart." Isabelle didn't know if she liked the sound of that. Simon made it sound like Magnus was some sort of fire. Like he was going to leave Alec burned on the side of the road. A wave of worry surged forward and Isabelle was suddenly curious and afraid. Who _was_ Magnus?

"What about before here? What did you guys do on your travels?" She questioned, her fingers digging into the fabric of her skirt. Simon looked somewhat unnerved, shifting nervously in front of the girl.

"We'd only been together for a few days before the party. He'd tell stories, these great stories, about anything you could ever imagine. I was practically living off of him until last week. He didn't need me around at all, but he didn't seem to mind." Simon replied carefully, watching Isabelle with a tinge of fear. He probably thought she was going to hit him, with how upset she felt. Isabelle remembered hearing Alec gush about the storyteller's tales. She wasn't one for children's bedtime stories, so she wasn't as impressed, especially if Magnus was some sort of deviant out to extort her brother.

"Well, what did he do before that?" Isabelle continued. Now she was the one leaning forward, intimately close to the musician. Simon shrugged, moving back slightly.

"I...don't know. He doesn't like to talk about it."

"Oh..." Isabelle sat back, disappointed. Even if Simon knew more, why would he tell her? To Simon, she was a servant at the castle, not a figure of authority and certainly not royalty. She dropped her gaze to her hands, to her unadorned finger.

"I lost the ring you gave me." Isabelle spoke up softly, showing Simon her bare finger. The musician smiled, turning to the cracks of the marketplace. Some small flowers had grown through the cobblestone, most lying trampled as people walked on through the bazaar, but a few had managed to survive, standing proudly in the afternoon sun. Simon had once told Isabelle that he had wanted to be like those flowers. The princess had asked why he wanted to be a weed. Simon had just laughed.

"It's fine, I'll make you another one." Simon said, plucking one from the flowers from the cracks. The buttercup was small and dainty, and Simon's fingers wrapped the green stem around Isabelle's finger in a series of twisted braids, until it almost resembled the elegant filigree of her tiara at home. A small smile made it's way to the corners of the princess' mouth. "It's not surprising that it broke, I mean, it's not like it's real metal." He trailed off and they looked at each other, Simon's hand still on Isabelle's. The princess spoke out, the thoughts on her mind echoing so loudly in her head that she had to say them.

"I wouldn't mind a real ring from you." She said, the words coming out in a rush, stunning even her. She could have anyone in the Shadow Kingdoms, and here she was, confessing her affections to a commoner. Maybe it ran in the family?

Simon faltered, looking away. There was embarrassment in his eyes, along with something much darker. "I...I'm sorry, Izzy. I can't be that. I don't even plan to stay in the city for much longer." He admitted, dropping her hand. "Since, I know Magnus is okay..." He trailed off, looking over to his sitar.

"Oh." Isabelle replied, rising to her feet automatically, her heart sounding loudly in her ears even as she moved away from Simon. Embarrassment and disappointment rose, flushing her cheeks and filling her eyes until she could feel tears. "Okay." She said, because that wasn't right at all. Nothing was okay. Nothing at all.

Her feet moved on their own, carrying her away from Simon. She tore the flower from her finger, throwing it behind her, and disappearing into the crowd. Simon stared after her, stunned.

The sitar, without so much as a look from Simon, suddenly strummed out an angry, fast noise. It was bitter and resentful, as if berating the musician. Simon glanced over at the instrument in shock, snatching it up and looking around nervously. His fingers went to the strings, pressing them down firmly and silencing them, the cords still vibrating against his hand. He let out a shaky sigh of relief when nobody in the square paid them any attention.

"I know." He breathed, studying the yellow flowers painted on the side of the wood. "I know, Becky." He repeated, closing his eyes.

* * *

"Am I good at kissing?" Alec asked, looking at the storyteller. He ran a hand through his hair nervously, it displaced the black locks, pushing them away from his forehead. Magnus reached out, smoothing the bangs over the prince's forehead neatly, before his fingers cupped Alec's cheek affectionately.

"Your Majesty, you have a natural talent for kissing." Magnus replied smoothly, leaning forward with a smile. He moved in to brush his lips against Alec's, before pulling back. The prince looked mildly dazed. "Why don't you start?"

"Me?" Alec asked, staring at Magnus. The storyteller nodded. "You mean..."

"Kiss me, your Majesty." Magnus said with a grin, and Alec frowned.

"Only if you call me 'Alec'." Magnus' grin faltered.

"Pardon?"

"I've said it before. I don't like how you use airs around me." Alec looked down at the bed, his fingers running across the smooth fabric. "You've kissed me. We've..." a blush creeped up Alec's face, "slept together. You can call me Alec now." Magnus stared at the Prince in surprise.

"Prince Alec..." Magnus let the words slip from his mouth, and suddenly the boy was on top of him, knocking the storyteller back onto the bed. Magnus caught a flash of bright blue eyes before Alec kissed him, the prince resting comfortably on top of the storyteller. Magnus paused for a moment, and he felt Alec hesitate in response. Magnus ran his hands down Alec's back, and the Prince continued, shifting his knees to either side of the storyteller's hips. Alec's kisses were gentle and the very definition of innocence. Light and soft, the prince pecked at Magnus' lips, his hands resolutely staying on the storyteller's shoulders, not bothering to explore his body. The man would have laughed if it wouldn't have crushed the boy's fragile self-esteem.

He settled for running his hands down Alec's back, towards his hips. Alec pulled back slightly, until Magnus could see the boy's blue eyes looking down at him. His expression was wary and nervous, as if asking for approval. Magnus merely smiled, his hand going to run across the back of the prince's head, tangling in the hair there briefly before he pulled Alec down from another kiss, this one deeper, the storyteller's tongue slipping into the other's mouth. The prince made a small noise of approval, kissing Magnus back until they had to pull away for air.

"You have a natural talent for kissing." Magnus repeated, grinning up at Alec. The prince blushed, a smile spreading across his face. Magnus laughed, tugging Alec closer.

* * *

The carriage pulled into the Castle d'Lux Lignum, sounding like wind chimes on the breeze. It was painted an icy, silver color, gold running along the wood in carved designs of the expansive forest of the Bas du Monde continent. The white walls of the castle reflected brightly on the precious metal, casting rays of lights across the ground. The ride stopped in the courtyard, the bells strung from the golden horses at it's head jingling merrily as they stamping their hooves. A gilded footman, his face expressionless, stepped from the back of the carriage, moving to pull on the silver handle of the door. It opened up to reveal a beautiful woman in a blood red dress, the fabric twisted about her in waves of chiffon and embroidered roses, the deep color setting off her pale skin wonderfully, making it shine. She stepped down onto the paved stone with a click of her dainty heels, her gaze wandering over to the elegant fountain standing in the nest of the garden.

She smiled distantly, before looking towards the sound of crunching boots. The King d'Lux Lignum made his way over to the guest, the scarlet of his own robes seeming dim in comparison to the woman's gown. Robert extended a hand, his expression full of polite charm. The woman accepted his hand with a demure smile, straightening her back as he bent to brush his lips against her knuckles. Her green eyes glittered like emeralds, her hair the color of spun gold. Everything about her seemed to radiate light. The king couldn't help but be at least slightly enamored, as any human would when confronted by such beauty.

"Welcome to Lux Lignum, Princess Camille."

* * *

A/N: I was planning on writing out Simon and Isabelle's first meeting into the story, but that quickly turned into it's own oneshot. Possibly a story. We'll see. ;)

Also, can you say drama?

Reviews are loved!


	6. Chapter 6

**The Prince and the Storyteller. Chapter 5.**

"A Princess in the castle?" Alec echoed, looking entirely confused. His hair was unruly with sleep, his body clothed in a deep blue shirt and chocolate-brown leggings. It was another colorful selection courtesy of Magnus, whose taste in fashion was highly agreeable with Isabelle's own.

"Yes, she arrived last night." Isabelle told him. The princess had run into Alec's room barely ten minutes ago with the worrying news. One of her ladies had told her the gossip upon Isabelle's waking, and she had rushed to warn Alec immediately, not even bothering the change out of her nightgown.

"Why wasn't anything announced prior to her arrival?" Alec asked, pausing when Magnus poured more tea into the white jade cups resting on his waiting room table. The prince looked at Magnus with worry, his hands twisting into the pristine tablecloth, wrinkling the surface with valleys and mountains. The Storyteller flashed him a comforting smile in return, standing behind Alec's chair protectively. Isabelle took note of this, just as much as she did of the small, red mark on her brother's collarbone. Minor emergency or not, a smile creeped across her lips at the looks her brother and his storyteller were exchanging. She hid behind her cup, enjoying the citrus taste of the foreign tea and the hearts that seemed to float around Alec's head when Magnus was nearby. Isabelle was suddenly reminded of Simon, with his sincere smiles, and then of her rejection yesterday. She accidentally burned her lips on the hot tea, nearly spilling the liquid all over her front. Isabelle quickly set down her cup with a loud clatter, earning a worried stare from Alec. Tears burned in her eyes, and she quickly blamed them on the pain of the heat. As the Princess d'Lux Lignum, she refused to cry over any man.

"Apparently she arrived sooner than expected. Much sooner." Isabelle gave her brother a long look, dabbing at her lips with a blue satin napkin patterned with silver stars. "She obviously really wants to marry you." Alec fidgeted under her gaze. "Father is throwing a ball next week to formally welcome her, but tonight he's invited her to a dinner in her honor, and everyone in the family is required to be there." Isabelle let out a long sigh. Alec, despite the announcement hitting him in the chest with the weight of a full-grown horse, looked up at his sister in concern.

"What's wrong?" He asked, frowning when Isabelle merely shook her head. "Izzy, tell me. What's bothering you?" Isabelle bit her stinging lip. She didn't want to think of what would happen to Simon if Alec found out that his sister had been slighted by a common musician. Alec might have been a harmless kitten in the face of his family members, but the moment you laid a hand on anyone he cared for, the prince turned into the fierce lion his father was always telling him to act more like.

"I was hoping to sneak into town later, but all of this dinner nonsense has ruined my plans." Isabelle huffed, slumping back in her chair. There, she wasn't lying per say. Magnus gave the princess a curious look.

"Sneak into town?" He repeated with a touch of confusion. "Why would you need to sneak into town?" Isabelle looked at Alec incredulously.

"You haven't gone over this with him yet?" She asked. Alec flushed when both his sister and Magnus looked at him.

"I haven't really needed to go off of the grounds." Alec replied defensively. Isabelle paused, mirroring Magnus' confusion for a moment, before she realized what her brother meant. A smirk creeped over her lips, and she enjoyed watching the embarrassment rush to her older brother's face.

"Oh, I see. You've got all you need right here." She said, gesturing at Magnus.

"_Isabelle._" Alec hissed, glaring at his sister. He turned to look at Magnus' grinning face. "Don't you even start! W-we sneak into town so we can wander around without a parade or party or Mayor Hodge following us around wherever we go to make sure nothing happens to us." Alec shrugged. "We sometimes want to see the town for ourselves." Magnus frowned.

"That sounds dangerous." He said, settling the pot of tea down and resting a hand on the shoulder of Alec's chair. The prince shrugged, turning away so he could sip at his tea.

"Hardly, the capital's main streets are full of guards, so even if we were in trouble, they would help us like any other citizen." Isabelle spoke up, playing idly with her satin napkin. "Not to mention, Alec and I are entirely capable of defending ourselves."

"Perhaps." Magnus said, though he looked entirely unconvinced. "Next time I'll be sure to come along, so you can show me the town."

"Well then, let's go now!" Isabelle said, a gleam in her eyes. She quickly began putting together a plan in her head. Alec shook his head in alarm, as if reading her mind.

"We can't just leave, Isabelle!" He told her, always the voice of reason. "There's a dinner for the visiting princess tonight, and we both have a long day of studying and handling our suitors to deal with first." Isabelle opened her mouth to protest, "Don't lie. I know you've received entire ships full of letters. It's no wonder you don't stay in your own room. You'd drown in ink and paper."

"But Magnus wants to see the town!" Alec sputtered when Isabelle lifted her brows knowingly. "We'll be right back in. It'll be fun! Not to mention when's the next time we'll be allowed off the grounds?"

"We're not even allowed off the grounds to begin with." Alec argued. Isabelle smiled.

"Exactly. I'll see you at the grate in an hour. I need to do my hair."

* * *

Isabelle wasn't easily deterred from her goals. Once she knew what she wanted she ran towards it, kicking and yelling the entire way. That was the reason the old grate in the back corner of the palace wall was broken beyond all repair. The princess had spent a good week of her childhood chipping away at the rock surrounding the metal bars until they had fallen loose enough for her and Alec to sneak on through. Alec, always overly cautious and naïve to the point of an angelic nature, hadn't even helped her. Though since he was the first to point out the grate's existence, Isabelle had shared the escape route with him, much like the two older siblings would share it with Max when he came of age. The grate was hidden behind a patch of gnarly bushes even the gardeners didn't bother with, but Isabelle had perfected the art of swerving her way through the branches so they didn't even touch her. Alec, larger and more clumsy, often had trouble getting through, much to her amusement. But Magnus, despite being several inches taller than Alec, managed to ease his way through the bush with the grace and dexterity that even Isabelle didn't have. She eyed the storyteller enviously as he slipped alongside Alec and her in the cramped grate, looking far better than his partner.

"So, this is how you sneak out." Magnus murmured, sounding both impressed and amused as he helped pull stray leaves and twigs from Alec's tangle hair. Isabelle lifted her chin and made her way forward along the dirt-encrusted drainage pipe, ducking down to avoid the grimy ceiling. Alec and Magnus shuffled after her, following until the shuttered light of the entrance to the castle grounds faded, and they were greeted by another circle of broken rays on the path ahead of them. Isabelle continued towards the light unerringly, finally reaching the vines that long ago grown over the old sewer entrance. The plants were weak and malleable, making it easy to slip through them without cutting them down. They also served to hide the sewer so well that nature itself couldn't tell the difference. One time, a spider had made a web over the entrance, falling into Alec's hair when the prince had passed through. Ever since then Alec had a slightly understandable fear of them.

"Come on!" Isabelle called out behind her, escaping from the tangle of vines and brushing a few leaves off her cloak. She looked over her shoulder, watching as Alec and Magnus climbed out of the drain. Magnus looked around the collection of trees curiously.

"Where are we?" He asked. Alec pointed towards the east.

"The town is in that direction, through the trees. We'd better get going, the market is going to open up soon." He added. Isabelle lit up at the reminder, thinking of Simon, before she took such thoughts and threw them off the parapet. She looked over at Alec and Magnus. The pair was so close their shoulders were brushing, contact that would not have been allowed if they were just a prince and his servant. Isabelle couldn't lie, she was a little envious. It looked so nice to be in love and together, even with Alec's potential bride nesting in their home like a barrel of gunpowder near a spreading fire. "Come on, you two! Let's get to town!"

"We're coming. We're coming." Alec responded, following his sister through the trees after exchanging an amused look with Magnus.

The capital was as lively as ever, the music of the market sounding long before they reached the borders of the city. Unlike the castle, the capital was walled in only with roads that allowed for traders across the world to enter the city for business.

Bells and whistles sounded, chimes ringing as store doors were opened, yet Isabelle didn't care of any of that. She glanced over her shoulder, seeing that Magnus had already drawn a crowd, to whom he was reciting a tale that involved a lot of jumping around. Apparently the storyteller was fairly popular with the townspeople, more importantly their children. Alec was stand a few feet away, his eyes fixed on the storyteller, stars dancing in his eyes as Magnus told a tale about dragons and mermaids. Isabelle thought it was all rather boring; she'd rather see the dragons and mermaids for herself then hear about someone else talk about it. She looked around the market, listening intently through the din for the sound of a sitar, but she heard nothing. It wasn't until she spotted Simon in the shadow of the town square's statue (it was of her great-great..._great-_grandfather) that she located him.

"Simon!" She called out, refusing to stomp over to the musician like a whining child. Instead she sauntered over gracefully, making sure that her skirt billowed slightly behind her, cheap fabric or not. Simon glanced at her at first, looking around, before he pushed away from the statue, staring at her with wide eyes.

"I-Izzy?"

"Surprised to see me again?" Isabelle's tone was challenging. She almost wished Simon would pick a fight with her. She knew her way around an argument, the strange feeling in the her stomach was completely foreign to her. Simon merely looked back at her in shock and confusion.

"No, I just-Well, yes, actually. I thought you didn't want to see me again." Isabelle crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well, I'm here. Even if it's just for a few chores." She lied easily enough. Simon's eyes dropped to the ground at his feet in embarrassment.

"You are." The conversation lulled into an unpleasant silence. Isabelle frowned, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"So, what did you mean when you said that you were running off?" She snapped. She was never one to stall an issue, much like her equally blunt brother, but unlike Alec she often didn't regret her words. Truth was truth. Simon paused, looking apologetic.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. It wasn't because you're a servant that I said no, Isabelle. It was because where I'm going is a place you shouldn't have to follow."

"Because I'm a girl?" Isabelle hissed. Simon raised both of his hands in surrender.

"Because you deserve better. You deserve some rich merchant's son that will spoil you until your last breath. He should take you across the world in a boat made of gold and sails of silk." Isabelle paused, blinking in surprise. She dropped her arms, looking at the musician for a long moment. In all the letters she'd bothered to read, all the princes and lord's sons had offered her everything they could give: money, jewels, all the material wealth they could give in exchange for chaining her to their side for the rest of her life. But Isabelle was a Princess, if she had wanted all of those things, she could have stayed home and gotten it without an annoying husband to boot. Simon was offering her a better life than what he thought he could ever give, something none of those other boys had even suggested.

"Simon..." She began, stunned. Simon shook his head laughing weakly.

"All I can offer you is feet sore from traveling and my annoying company and music. It's hardly a bargain."

"You couldn't settle here?" Isabelle asked, recovering enough to think rationally about the entire situation. Simon shook his head roughly.

"No," Simon looked down at his sitar. "I have a sister. And she sick and she needs my help. That's why I have to keep traveling. I have to find someone who can cure her." Isabelle's heart skipped a beat. She thought of Max or Alec being sick, without the royal blood that granted them the best of doctors on the continent.

"We have all sorts of doctors at the castle. Maybe one of them-"

"It's not a natural disease." Simon muttered, playing with the strings of his sitar distractedly. Isabelle paused, confused.

"Then what is it?" She asked. "What is a unnatural disease?" Simon shook his head, his expression serious.

"I can't tell you, but know this, Izzy." Simon grabbed her hand suddenly, squeezing it tightly, longingly, before letting it go. "If I didn't have this quest to complete, I'd offer you everything off my back, as little as it is, if you'd be my bride. You're an amazing girl, worth more than the Princess d'Lux Lignum herself." Isabelle froze.

"How can you say that? The Princess is...a princess." She trailed off, biting down on her lip. Simon smiled.

"I've never met the Princess before, and even if I did. I'm sure she couldn't possibly be as wonderful as you." Isabelle reached out, grabbing Simon's hand.

"Simon, I-"

"Isabelle!" The girl jumped in shock at the sound of her brother's voice. Simon looked over her shoulder, recognition filling his eyes.

"Magnus?" He called out. Isabelle whirled around to see Alec and Magnus running towards them. She dropped Simon's hand like his skin had burned her. "Why are you here?" Simon asked the moment Magnus and Alec stopped in front of them. "I thought you were in with the prince!" Simon looked at Alec curiously. "Who's this?"

"I _am_ with the prince." Magnus gasped, breathless from the running. "_This_ is Prince Alec." Magnus paused, finally looking between Simon and Isabelle curiously. Isabelle was pretty sure the emotion racing through her veins was akin to the feeling a bird got moments before an arrow shot them down mid-flight. "And this-" he gestured to Isabelle "-is his sister." Simon instinctively opened his mouth to deny the statement, as if Magnus has told him the sky was purple.

"No, this is Izzy, she works at the castle..." He looked to Isabelle, expecting her to support his completely logical claim. Isabelle looked back at him silently. Simon grew remarkably pale. "Wait, Izzy is short for...Isabelle? Y-you, you're...?" Isabelle nodding slowly. Truth was truth.

"I am the princess. Princess Isabelle d'Lux Lignum." She answered quietly, to which Simon responded by jumping away from Isabelle as if she'd suddenly grown horns and cloven feet. Magnus looked at the musician with concern.

"Simon, are you alright?" He asked. Alec made an impatient noise in the back of his throat, looking over his shoulder nervously as a group of guards circled the corner.

"We need to head back to the castle, Isabelle! The Royal Guard has raised an alarm that we're missing!" Isabelle looked at him in shock, dragging her cloak around her head to cover her hair.

"Already?!" She asked in panic, turning back to the sitar player, and reaching out to take Simon's hand once again. Simon jerked his hand away, merely looking at her in disbelief. "Simon, I..."

"You should go," Simon looked sick to his stomach. "y-your Majesty." Isabelle scowled, reaching out to squeeze Simon's hand when he tried to move away.

"If you want to see me again, wait in this city!" She snapped, before reeling in her frustration. "I don't know when I'll be back, bu-"

"It's fine. I'll wait, I promise." Simon said, smiling weakly at Isabelle. His voice trembled, and Isabelle didn't know if he was telling the truth or not. "Now hurry, before you get in trouble." He said, pointing across the square. "If you run through the East End of town, you might be able to avoid the guards."

"Thank you." Isabelle said, staring into Simon's eyes until Alec grabbed her arm and yanked her in the direction Simon was pointing in.

* * *

"We're doomed." Alec hissed, ducking behind a group of crates when a group of guards ran past them.

"We'll sneak back onto the grounds before they catch us, is all. What's the worse that can happen?" Isabelle whispered back, feeling as those the day was going fairly well.

"Please never say those words again, your Highness." Magnus murmured, crouching down next to the siblings, looking over his shoulder warily. It was a wonder they hadn't been caught yet. "I think we can move forward now." He suggested, the trio rising to walk into the deserted street. The East End of the capital was nearly deserted, most of the homes belonging to the peddlers that were trying to sell their wares over in the marketplace down the way. Isabelle glanced longingly over her shoulder at the marketplace, turning back around to see Alec studying her suspiciously.

"Who was that boy?" Alec asked. Isabelle sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Alec-"

"Isabelle." The prince's tone was lethal. "Have you been sneaking out to see _him_?"

"I don't want any lectures from _you_ about dating commoners!" Isabelle retorted. Blood rushed to Alec's cheeks at his sisters words.

"We're not dating!"

"I feel I've been gravely wounded by such words, my Prince." Magnus spoke up, sounding more amused than genuinely hurt. Alec looked over to him, his expression one of inner conflict.

"Magnus, you-" Alec's response was cut off by a loud shout.

"There!" The trio turned to a member of the Royal Guard running towards them.

"Oh no." Magnus muttered, summing the situation perfectly. Isabelle turned to face the guard, holding up her hands complacently. Alec placed a hand on Magnus' arm, clearly showing that the storyteller wasn't a threat. The guard stopped in front of them, delivering a quick salute. There was hardly a point in running anymore, but that didn't stop Alec from considering it.

"We're fine. We were-we were just-" Isabelle began, looking over to Alec and Magnus, as if the storyteller would speak up a wonderful tale of lies and excuses. Magnus had none to offer.

"The king wants to see you immediately." The Guard answered, fear sparking in his eyes.

* * *

Furious couldn't be used to describe the king's mood. Magnus would have made some poetic comparison to a sun so hot that the ground was scorched like Hell's fields, but all Alec could picture was the sun exploding into a million sharp pieces, each one stabbing and burning him at the same time.

"I raise the alarm believing two of my children have been kidnapped by enemies of the state, and what do I find? The both of you stumbling around in the filth outside the castle walls!" Robert shouted, pacing in front of the throne angrily, the shine of the rubies of his crown in the candlelight searing Alec's eyes. Maryse was at the throne's side, watching Robert quietly. Her hands were clutched tightly in front of her, twisting into the folds of her garnet-studded gown. Alec and Isabelle stood in front of the them, dressed in simple commoners clothes, both rigid with fear. Alec could sense Magnus behind him, a constant nearby presence. It gave him a surprising amount of strength.

"Father," Alec began, "we merely went into the town to-"

"Silence!" Robert yelled. "Do you understand the delicate situation that has arisen because of your stupidity, Alexander? A Princess comes all the way from the Bas du Monde continent, a continent that our kingdom has long sought to create alliances in, and you run off like this is all a game!" Isabelle opened her mouth to say something, only to stop when Alec sent her a look. Alec turned back towards his father, or rather, his boots.

"I understand, Father. I have disgraced this kingdom-"

"_Alec_-" Isabelle whispered, horrified.

"-and am willing to accept any punishment you deem fit to the transgression." Alec said, bowing lowly. He didn't take his gaze off the floor when Robert responded.

"Well...if you are so willing, them I'm sure I can find a suitable task." Robert answered, sounding surprised at Alec's response.

"My dear King d' Lux Lignum," a voice spoke up, drawing the attention of the crowd, "as the slighted party, may I speak on this matter?" Alec glanced up to see a petite blonde girl around his own age standing a few feet away from the throne. He'd been too absorbed in his father's rage to notice her at first, though he had no idea how. Her blonde hair was in perfect curls, large pearls braided through the elegant locks. Her eyes were a green so bright they matched the rich fabric that twisted around her bodice. The material was like vines, descending to bloom around her hips like a flower carved from gleaming emerald. She was a beautiful girl, even Alec, who hadn't ever concerned himself with such things, could see that. Robert turned to look at the girl, his shoulders relaxing visibly at her words.

"Yes, of course, Princess Camille. What is it you wish to say?" Alec froze. _This_ was the princess that had come to see him?

"I have suffered no great insult at either of your children's absence. I merely was worried that they had been injured in any way." Camille stepped forward, smiling with all the grace of someone groomed to be a future queen. "In fact, I can't help but feel relief, seeing that both the prince and princess are unharmed." The princess curtseyed lowly to both Alec and Isabelle in greeting. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Prince and Princess d'Lux Lignum. I am Princess Camille d'Clarine a Cour. Oh, may I call you Princess Isabelle and…" The blonde princess' cheeks darkened into a blush. "Prince…Alexander?" Alec stared at the princess in a mix of confusion and amazement. He glanced over at Isabelle, whose eyes were narrowed suspiciously, then to Magnus, who was against the study wall with the other servants. Alec paused when he saw that Magnus was as white as sheet, his gaze fixed on the princess before him. Alec followed the storyteller's gaze, seeing that the princess was staring at Magnus just as intently. Camille noticed the prince's gaze on her, and looked back at Alec with a polite smile.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Princess d'Clarine a Cour." Alec stumbled over the words his etiquette tutor had branded into his head since he was ten. "I apologize for any inconvenience that our absence has caused, and am grateful for that our return has lifted your spirits." He managed, bowing politely. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Isabelle drop into a curtsey, her eyes on the ground.

"Oh, honestly, it isn't any trouble at all!" Camille insisted, folding both of her hands over her heart. "His Lord, the King, is correct. I traveled far to see you, Prince Alexander, how could I be anything but delighted to meet you?" She asked, and Alec couldn't think of anything to respond with.

"And wonderful as this first meeting has turned out," Maryse spoke up, stepping up to Robert's side. "The Prince and Princess are in a dreadful state of dress. Might we exchange this meeting for a more favorable one over dinner later?"

"Yes," Robert murmured, his gaze sliding from Alec, to Magnus, to finally, his wife. "There are matters to address, but you two must see to yourselves first. Go." He said, turning away from the crowd, clearly dismissing everyone from the room. Maryse shot both Alec and Isabelle a look before turning to her husband. It was Camille that spoke next.

"I'll see you at dinner then, Prince Alexander?" She asked hopefully, as the small collection of servants and guards went to open the doors of the king's study. The prince and princesses exited the room, entering the main Entrance Hall. The white pillars supporting the high ceiling braided with intertwining flowers, hyacinths today, filling the air with a sweet smell that made Alec's nose tingle.

"Of course." Alec replied, somewhat nervous about the entire affair. Camille smiled at him once again before turning and leading a small group of female servants towards the west wing. He made his way towards the east wing of the castle, looking over his shoulder to see that Magnus was following, but the storyteller's gaze was still fixed on Princess Camille's back. His stomach twisted at the sight. "What's wrong?" He asked, once they were in the east wing.

"It's nothing." Magnus answered softly, turning back to focus on him. Alec looked away, sincerely doubting the man's words.

* * *

A/N: Tada! Update! Good news! I have the next two chapters drabbled up, along with the rest of the story plotted out! Yay! This chapter is twice the size of a regular one, an apology for the late update!

Reviews are loved!


	7. Chapter 7

**The Prince and the Storyteller. Chapter 6.**

Formal dinners were normally a tense affair in the Lux Lignum Dining Hall, however tonight was a particularly frigid event. Magnus could feel the chill that filled every corner of the room. Entire courses of rich, steaming food were set down in front of the royal family and their esteemed guest, however nothing could melt away the frost that gathered when King Robert spoke to or about Alec. Though Magnus had no place at the table, he couldn't have taken a bite now; his stomach was so full of nerves. His mind was in worse conditions as he watched Camille chat patiently with young Max, her expression one of polite affection.

Camille. The name was the past and the present in one. The taint of the woman's touch had both given rise to and ruined Magnus in the most flawless way possible. Camille, who was certainly here to taint Magnus' future as well. The storyteller turned his focus to Alec, who looked more uncomfortable than humanly possible. He'd barely touched his food, he was so upset. Alec, who could have been the model of a pompous prince but instead was sweet, kind and entirely gentle. Camille had as much sense as cruelty in her. She had set her sights on Alec, and it would certainly be Magnus' undoing.

"If you'll pardon me for a moment, my King, and darling Prince Maxwell, I need to freshen up." Camille said between one of Max's rare breaks in conversation, setting her napkin down next to her plate. Alec stood quickly and rigidly, circling around the table to pull Camille's seat out for the her. "Thank you, Prince Alexander." Camille chirped, placing a hand on Alec's forearm as she stepped around the chair. Magnus seethed, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything aloud and ensuring his execution. The woman made her way towards the main doors of the dining hall, pausing to let the servants open the doors before continuing on through.

Magnus, who was just one servant in a long line against the wall, shifted subtly to leave the room through the servant's entrance, not noticing Alec's eyes on him the entire time. The storyteller exited from the small servant's hallway into the main entrance hall, turning when he saw a flash of green from out of the corner of his eye. Camille stood in front of him, older than the illusion she'd donned in front of the royal family. She looked like a grown woman now, though Magnus knew her to be centuries older.

"Camille." He greeted evenly, crossing his arms over his chest. Camille smiled, her red lips shining like blood.

"Really, it was a surprise to see you back there, Magnus." Camille greeted, fluttering her fan against her bodice demurely. It was the same green of her skirt, pearls sewed throughout the ruffled lace at the top. Magnus leaned back against one of the spiraling pillars that decorated the hall, his expression carefully blank. The bright blue fabric of his shirt looked strange with the deep green of his pants. The material was dreadfully cheap in comparison to Camille's, but the storyteller's outfit had its own allure.

"No, it wasn't." Magnus answered, giving Camille a quiet look, refusing to let his gaze wander to the dining area behind him. "Though I'm flattered. You've never bothered to scheme anything this elaborate before." Magnus scoffed at the innocent look Camille sent him, crossing his arms over his chest. "I figured you were done with mortals after whisking me away and turning me into your pet." Camille frowned at this, her fan moving more quickly and upsetting her hair.

"You were my companion, my friend."

"You branded me when I left you." Magnus corrected. "You made it so that no other human would look at me unveiled without believing me a servant of the Devil." Camille's fan paused, and she tilted her head slightly, smiling.

"Yes, veiled indeed. I see Ragnor Fell was sympathetic to your cause." Camille snapped her fan closed, all acts of charm gone with the sharp crack. "Though I wonder how sympathetic your beloved Prince will be to your curse." Magnus froze, watching the dark joy that filled Camille's eyes. "Oh? Did you think me blind? Even that fool king knows the two of you to have something special." Magnus took a step forward, anger tinting his words.

"If you do anything to Alec-" He began, cut off as Camille tutted at him.

"So informal for a servant, Magnus. However I assure you, I won't do anything to your sweet Prince, besides marry him, of course." Camille sent Magnus a dark smile. "After all, that's the one thing that will hurt you the most, isn't it? To see the one you love stolen away, and for there to be nothing that you can do about it." Magnus' nails dug into his palms painfully, driving the words from his mouth.

"I would kill you." Camille's laughter rang through the hall like the tingle of bells.

"Me?" Magnus felt the sudden pull of magic, the cold draw of energy that left his bones weary and dragged a shiver up his spine. The energy in the room flowed to Camille in a violent torrent, billowing along the hem of her pristine skirts. Magnus stood his ground, watching as the shadows lengthened, twisting into horrific creatures with smoky red eyes. They clawed at the white alabaster stone, sliding against the floors with the sound of grinding metal, their eyes fixed on the storyteller. "I think all that Moonshade has gotten to your head, boy. Have you forgotten who you're dealing with?" Camille stepped forward, placing her hand against Magnus' cheek. Her fingers were cold as winter itself. "There is nothing you can do to stop me. Nothing you can do to prevent me from finding out what it is about this boy who has you so enamored." Magnus opened his mouth to speak, but Camille pressed her fingertips against his lips. "Shh, who knows? Maybe you'll learn your lesson and finally live out your life alone. Forever. Isn't that what you wanted when you left me all those years ago?" Magnus merely looked at Camille, his eyes reflecting nearly a decade of pain and abandonment. The emotions gathered in his eyes until Camille was forced to turn away, walking back towards the dining area. "Maybe I'll find out what's so special about him tonight." She added, her voice unnerved. The shadows slipped away, the red eyes fading into another world.

"Camille." Magnus said quietly. The sorceress paused, looking over her shoulder at the storyteller. "I won't let you have him." He stated, loud enough for his voice to carry a magic of its own. A magic grown through years of powerful memories and perfected words. Magnus took no real notice of this, other than the shocked look on Camille's face. A moment later the look was gone, replaced by a sneer.

"And so the game begins." She answered, her heels once again starting their rhythmic tap against the marble floor.

* * *

It was later in the evening when Alec finally got away with excusing himself from dinner. The Prince ran away from his angry parents and the strange Princess to his chambers, where he could finally breathe. He thought back to the gazes shared between Magnus and Camille before Camille had excused herself, only for Magnus to disappear and not return to the dining room, even after Camille had. Alec bit his lip as he stood out his door. What if Magnus had gone after Camille? She was certainly beautiful enough, even Alec knew that. The prince should have been completely enchanted by the girl, but rather he found himself thinking of Magnus, worrying over the storyteller throughout the night. Alec opened his door, walking inside and seeing his empty greeting room. He closed the door, striding over to the alcove that housed his bed, his heart thudding in his chest at the thought that Magnus wouldn't be there, opting instead to spend the night in Camille's guest lodgings.

"Magnus?" He called out, relieved when he saw the storyteller at his bookcase. Magnus placed a hand on the book he was reading, looking over at Alec absent-mindedly.

"Your Majesty." He greeted amiably, though there was something off in his voice. Alec stepped forward, resting a hand on Magnus' arm. Magnus looked down at him in mild surprise, and Alec responded by kissing the storyteller on the lips. When he pulled away Magnus was staring at him, the beginnings of a smile on his face. "Well then," Magnus closed the book and turned to face Alec completely, "and here I thought the new princess' beauty would drive you away from me." The catch in his voice that brought both relief and pain to Alec's stomach. So, he hadn't been the only one worried?

"Of course not." Alec replied, his hands going to Magnus' chest, his fingers running across the bright blue fabric he touched there. Magnus reached out, his knuckles brushing against Alec's jaw.

"Most people would choose the beautiful princess over the simple storyteller." Magnus said gently, his dark eyes as soft as raven feathers. His fingers trailed over Alec's cheek in a hopeful manner.

"I never had my own choice to begin with." Alec answered, his own hand rising to touch Magnus' wrist. "I could have chosen the most wonderful bride from that collection of portraits, and none of it would have mattered the second I met you." The prince smiled now, looking at Magnus shyly. "I fell for you out there in the marketplace. I fell for you the moment I first heard your voice." He admitted softly. Magnus made a small sound in the back of his throat, a mix of pain and delight that confused the prince, before the storyteller pulled him closer, crushing their lips together with a force Alec was shocked by.

The kiss was long and rough, dragging away his sense, until his hips were pressed against Magnus', the prince's arms helping the storyteller yank off Alec's jacket, then his shirt, before going to his pants. The Prince gasped when Magnus suddenly pulled away. He stared up at the storyteller in confusion. Magnus was looking back at Alec, his expression utterly familiar. Alec felt his cheeks flood with tingling heat. It was the same look Magnus had made when he had Alec kiss him, the same expression the storyteller wore when he wanted to push Alec's boundaries in an utterly wonderful way.

"Get in the bath," Magnus paused, his lips curving into a mischievous smile "Your Highness." Alec bit his lip, before he smiled and opened his mouth to reply. The sound of his chamber door opening cut him off, and Alec turned to see two members of the Royal Guard, followed by Luke enter his room. Alec snatched his shirt up off the floor, looking at the trio in confusion.

"What's going on, Luke?" He asked, dragging the shirt to his chest, the marks of Magnus' kisses red on around his collarbone. He hastily covered them when Luke's gaze fixed on his neck.

"Seize him." Luke said, the words almost sounding like an apology. The pair of guards surged forward, surrounding Magnus and grabbing the storyteller's arms.

"What?" Magnus asked, stumbling when the Guards yanked him towards the door. Alec stared after them in shock.

"Let him go!" He ordered, striding towards the guards. Magnus was looking back at him, the storyteller's face pale in the candlelight. The guards ignored him, and Alec whirled around to face the Captain. "Luke!"

"I can't. It's the King's direct order." Luke told Alec, his tone gentle. "He wants you to with me as well, your Majesty." Alec stared at him, confusion swiftly turning into panic.

"Where are we going?" He asked weakly, the night going from decent to apocalyptic in a matter of moments.

"The dungeon." Luke answered, sympathy pouring off of him in waves.

* * *

The dungeon had none of the glamor or opulence of the rest of the castle. It was as if the servants took every dark stain, every ugly crack that appeared on the pristine alabaster stones and tossed them down among the cold grey stone that filled the cavernous space. Several layers deep, it was less like a part of a castle and more like the doorway to Hell itself. Luke led Alec past the holding cells that the prince had first rescued Magnus, deeper into the pit, until Alec was sure that he and Magnus would never see the sun ever again.

The stairs ended, the light of the torches lining the walls drowned out by a much brighter light from farther in the room beyond. Alec's boots hit the floor, and he looked out into towards the light. The room was large, but it seemed claustrophobic at first. The walls were crammed full of every device imaginable, torches hanging lowly from the high ceiling. Alec recognized a few of the contraptions along the floor, but for the most part he only knew that these devices were meant to inflict the worse kind a pain imaginable. The space was filled with a stench that reminded Alec of the mildew of the grate mixed with crusted blood, strong with disease and faint of death.

Across the room stood Robert, dressed immaculately as always. His entire outfit was black, and Alec could see the onyx and obsidian shining at his father's neck, wrists and belt. There was something dark clutched in his fists, hidden in the shadows. Alec didn't care for this fragment of information, his attention turning to who was beside his father. It was Magnus, who's bright blue shirt (Magnus' personal favorite) at been ripped apart until it hung off his torso in tatters, his was back bare for Alec to see. Magnus was kneeling, his wrists shackled to an iron bar that hung from the ceiling, the chains twisting in a way that allowed for only the smallest of movement.

"W-why did you bring us here?" Alec asked quietly. He wanted to go to Magnus, but wished to avoid coming closer to his father. Robert turned to face Alec. In his hands was a black tangle of leather, which Alec soon realized was a bullwhip.

"Someone has to be punished for your leaving the castle." Robert said, calmly unwrapping the bullwhip until the braided cord hit the ground. The words seized at Alec's chest, the prince looking at the whip, then Magnus in rising horror. "And it's about time you learned how to properly treat disobedience." Alec stared at Robert as the king offered him the handle of the whip, backing up until he hit the stone wall behind him. Chains rattled against his back, and Alec stumbled forward, feeling as though he father was crowding him with his presence, though the king was halfway across the room.

"I-I won't do it!" Alec bit his lip, looking to his father. "I've been leaving the castle grounds long before Magnus came here, you can't punish him for something he had no part in!"

"Alexander!" Robert shouted, silencing his son. "Do you understand what you're admitting to right now? You're admitting that you've been forgoing your duties as a prince to run around in the town like a common child!" Alec grit his teeth, his shoulders shaking.

"Then lash me, not Magnus! He doesn't deserve it!"

"SILENCE! Royal blood will not be spilled over a cheap toy! I could easily fetch you a more beautiful slave girl from the slave markets of Bas du Monde! You are a prince! Now take up the lash!" Robert screamed, shaking the whip at Alec, his face red. Alec shook his head, holding his ground. His fingers dug into the fabric of his pants, the ones Magnus had picked out for the catastrophe of a dinner earlier.

"I refuse!" He shouted back, watching as surprise crossed over Robert's face. The king faltered for a moment, before recovering and looking away towards the guards.

"Fine. Guards! Hold him back!" Alec jumped when Luke grabbed one arm, Alaric grabbing his other. He kicked out with his feet, his heels digging into the cracked floor.

"Let me go! _Luke!_" Luke dragged the prince back, bending down to whisper in Alec's ear.

"Your Majesty, don't say anything else. You're only making it worse." Alec looked to the Captain, before turning his attention back to Robert. Robert was facing Magnus now, the whip clutched firmly in his hand.

"Ten lashes to your precious servant." Robert declared coldly. "And you will count each one. And if you don't, then I will lash the skin from his spine until you do. Is that understood?" He paused, staring into Alec's defiant eyes. "_Is that understood?_" Alec's gaze wavered as he looked to Magnus, who had remained eerily silent, before looking back at his father. If anything, Robert looked angrier.

"Yes, my King." He bit out.

"Good. Now seeing as you are unfit to deliver proper punishment, I have no choice but to dirty my hands and-" The King was cut off when a voice called out from the stairwell.

"I'll deliver the lashes."

* * *

A/N: And the plot truly begins to pick up now. Hope you liked this chapter. Expect a new chapter for Second Chances soon!

Reviews are adored!


	8. Chapter 8

**The Prince and the Storyteller. Chapter 7.**

Standing at the base of the stairwell was the last person Alec would have expected.

"_Isabelle?_" He called out, staring at his sister in horror. Isabelle's hair was braided down her back, her white nightgown hanging from her shoulders before flowing down to her ankles. She looked like she was ready for bed, her bare feet stained with the dirt and grim of the dungeon floor. Isabelle wouldn't meet her brother's gaze. Instead she stared at her father resolutely.

"I went out too, father. I should have a part in this punishment, shouldn't I?" She asked, walking towards Robert calmly, her shoulders rigid. Robert's shock melted away into satisfaction, and he turned away from Magnus, facing Isabelle.

"I see you have more sense than your brother. Come here, Isabelle. You know the whip?" He asked, holding the bullwhip out to her. Isabelle stepped forward, taking it in her hands and nodding.

"I do." She replied.

"Then go at it." Robert said, not without a touch of pride. "Give him ten lashes. Alec will count them all." He added, casting a look at his son. Alec didn't spare him a glance, his gaze fixed on Isabelle.

"Izzy, what are you doing?" he asked weakly. Isabelle didn't answer, she turned to Magnus without another word. Alec watched as Isabelle raised the whip over her shoulder. Isabelle, who was wearing the same nightgown she had been earlier that day when she had suggested the trip that had brought Magnus here in the first place. The princess stared resolutely at Magnus as she swung the whip around her head once, the second rotation hitting the storyteller square in the back. Magnus' entire body jerked forward with the motion, the chains securing his wrists rattling loudly. Magnus didn't make a sound, his body twitching as Isabelle brought the whip across his back another time. Alec stood, every muscle rigid as the guards held his arms tightly. Shock over his sister's actions had frozen his body, horror silencing his voice. Magnus cried out on the third lash. It was a cracked, painful cough that seemed to ripple across his skin as he arched away from the whip. Alec threw himself forward in response, his boots sliding against the grime of the dungeon floor.

"Isabelle! Stop!" He shouted, kicking Alaric roughly in the shin. He threw himself forward when the man let go, his eyes on his sister and lover. Luke kept his grip on Alec's other arm, resulting in a rough tumble to the floor as Alec fell towards Magnus. Alec grunted as his chest hit the floor, rolling to his back and swinging his fist at the captain. But Luke had been in far more fights than the prince, and he caught Alec's arms easily, dragging him back to his feet. "Let me go! Magnus, I never wanted this to happen!" Alec shouted as Luke dragged him back towards the wall. Magnus looked at Alec wearily, not saying a word. His entire body was trembling, shaky gasps escaping his throat as if he had trouble getting them out. Sweat coated the storyteller's face, and his cheeks were flushed. His dark eyes had tears in them. Alec felt his own heart crack. "I'm so sorry..." He whispered.

"Hold him properly!" Robert growled at Luke, stepping towards Alec and grabbing his chin roughly. Robert tore Alec's gaze away from Magnus, until his son was looking up at him. "Five more lashes." Robert hissed angrily, glaring down at him son.

"I _hate_ you!" Alec screamed, jerking his head out of Robert's grasp, his legs swinging out and nearly striking the king. The guards dragged him back to the wall, the prince struggling the entire time. Robert stared back at him coldly.

"If the hate of my son is necessary for the future of this country, then it's a price I will gladly pay." Robert answered, turning back to Isabelle. She had stopped to watch Alec struggle free, her eyes wide. "Continue." Alec looked to his sister frantically, pleadingly. The handle of the whip dangling from Isabelle's fingers loosely.

"Izzy, stop! _Please_!" He begged. A tremor ran through Isabelle's shoulders, and she turned her attention to the ground. "Izzy, please don't hurt him anymore!"

"Isabelle! I said _continue_." Robert's tone clearly said that he wouldn't ask again. Isabelle turned away from Alec, ignoring his shouts as she raised the whip again. Magnus yelled at the next hit, and the next, until his voice cracked and the storyteller let out a coughing wheeze. The whip echoed slowly, cracking like melting ice over the river at the end of winter, Magnus' back jerking roughly, like it was shattering into pieces. Alec kept yelling, mindlessly things that could have been begging or cursing, his voice rising to a scream when Magnus' body went limp. Magnus didn't move again, not once when Isabelle lashed him five more times. The moment she finished the princess dropped the whip and backed away, as if it had burned her through the entire ordeal. "You didn't count." Robert said, looking to Alec. His expression was one of mild disappointment. Alec was silent, his breathing ragged as he looked at Magnus' body hanging off the rack. "However, I think the point has been made. You'll be meeting Princess Camille in the library tomorrow afternoon, do _not_ be late." He said, turning to ascend the stairwell. "You may let him go." Alec's knees hit the floor the second Luke and Alaric released him, and he scrambled over to Magnus, his movements frantic.

"Magnus? Magnus, are you-" Alec touched Magnus' cheek with his hand, looking to his back. Ugly, red welts covered the man, some already darkening to a purplish hue. Magnus' eyes were closed, his face wet with tears. Alec bit his lip, feeling his chest grow tight with pain. It was like Robert had plunged his fist inside of him, squeezing his heart in his grasp until it threatened to burst apart.

"Your Majesty," It was Luke. Alec sent him a vicious glare, even though he knew that there was no way that Luke could have denied Robert's orders. Luke paused, before continuing. "Let me undo the bindings." He said, pulling a set of keys from his belt. Luke removed the shackles from Magnus' wrists. Alec caught the storyteller slack form when he fell forward, leaning Magnus against his chest. Alec cradled his limp body gently, the storyteller's cheek resting against his neck.

"I'm so sorry," He whispered, not knowing what to do. His mind was a chaotic haze of sharp, piercing corners, each painful tip reminding him of one thing: it was all his fault. If he had been a little more firm with Isabelle, then none of this would have happened. "I never wanted you to get hurt. I didn't know my father would...Magnus I'm so sorry...!" Isabelle took a step towards the pair, her eyes wide.

"Alec, I-" The prince glared at her, wrapping his arms around Magnus protectively, making sure to avoid the lashes on his back.

"Do NOT come near him! Just go away, you vile _bitch_!" Alec shouted, tears burning in his eyes.

"Alec, don't-please don't!" Isabelle fell to her knees beside the pair, gripping Alec's hands tightly. She grabbed Alec's sleeve when he yanked his arm away. "Don't you see!? If father had lashed Magnus he would be _dead_ by now! The combat tutor taught me how to wield a whip. Look! I didn't even break his skin!" Alec struggled to see through the red haze in his mind, tried to focus on Isabelle's logic, as twisted as it seemed to him.

"Izzy…" He began, shaking his head at her. He held Magnus closer, closing his eyes. Isabelle bit her lip, tears dancing in her eyes at the look on her brother's face.

"I'm sorry! It was my idea to go out to the village, all because I wanted to see Simon. If Simon had been where Magnus was, then I..." She trailed off, looking down at Magnus. There were tears in her eyes. "I don't know what I would have done." Alec opened his eyes, gazing down at Magnus, at his closed eyes, and forced himself to push all of his emotions away.

"I would have done the same for you." Alec answered, realizing it was the truth. He would have taken the whip from Robert, lashing Simon as gently as he could manage. Because even though Alec didn't even know him, it was clear that Isabelle did, and he was important to her.

"Alec..." Isabelle's voice was soft and tiny. He hadn't heard her speak like that since they were little, when she'd sneak her way into his bed during thunderstorms. He swallowed the dark words in his throat, remembering that this was his little sister, and she'd only been trying to help. She _had_ helped. Alec thought of Robert's rage, of the king whipping Magnus' back. The storyteller wouldn't have survived.

"It's okay. We'll talk about it later." Alec said, looking back to Magnus. He pushed away the urge to cry. He hadn't cried in years. Not since he'd been young and fallen from his horse. Robert had ignored him until Alec's tears had dried up, telling his son to get back in his saddle. Tears didn't help a future king. "We need to get Magnus to the infirmary." Alec said, turning his attention to Luke and Alaric. He would have carried Magnus there himself if he could, but there was no way he could drag him up all the stairs leading to the main floor of the castle. "Take him to the infirmary." He ordered. Luke merely nodded, but Alaric hesitated.

"Sire, we-" Luke turned to him, but Alec spoke first. The rage at his father's actions transitioning into cold fury. It found a crack in Alec's usually calm, passive demeanor, bursting past his concern for Magnus and the anxiety he'd carried on his shoulders for years, coiling to strike at Alaric.

"Do you think that because you held me back at my father's demand, you can go against my orders? I could have your hands cut off for touching me alone." Luke and Isabelle stared at Alec with shocked expressions. Alaric stumbled over his words, clearly stunned at the normally quiet prince's anger.

"But, his Majesty-"

"You just watched as my father forced his children to punish an innocent man for their own crimes. Do you honestly think he'd raise a finger to help you? Escort him to the infirmary. _Now_." He watched as Luke and Alaric stepped forward hastily. They slung Magnus' arms around their shoulders, all but carrying him to the stairwell as the storyteller's boots dragged across the floor. "Make sure he gets the best care available." He added in a softer voice as they disappeared up the stairs.

"You do that well when you're mad." Isabelle said. Alec looked back at her. His sister looked as though she was both concerned and impressed.

"What?" He asked in confusion.

"Your voice just then. You sounded just like father." Alec winced, feeling fatigue rush him with her words.

"Please don't say that ever again." Isabelle looked at him, worry mixing with the guilt in her eyes.

"Are you okay?" Alec looked at her, too upset to show his disbelief. After all that had happened, all that was going on, she thought he was _okay_?

"No. I don't ever want to be him. I don't want to rule the way he does. I don't want to...to _torture_ people like he does. If this is what people expect from a king, then I can't do it!" He said, balling his fists until his could feel his knuckles crack. Isabelle moved towards him, wrapping her arms around Alec's shoulders.

"I'm sorry." She said, squeezing Alec tightly. "I'm sorry for everything that's happened today, Alec. It's all my fault." Alec relaxed, shaking his head.

"It's fine. You don't have to apologize to me." He looked at Izzy, his expression was distraught, but his eyes were steady. "But when Magnus wakes up you should apologize to him." Isabelle nodded in agreement.

"...Alright." She answered, looking around them warily. Alec glanced over to the fallen whip and shuddered.

"Come on, let's go upstairs."

* * *

It had been two days since the lashing, and Magnus was reported to have stirred in and out of consciousness in his infirmary bed, but never when Alec was around. The prince was always so busy, either studying, or dealing with his father and Camille. All he wanted to do was to spend the day by Magnus' side, holding his hand until the storyteller finally awoke and he could directly apologize. But Alec knew that it wouldn't be allowed. His father had made no end of threats to punish Magnus again, so instead the prince was in the library, doing a poor job of courting Princess Camille.

"Prince Alec, tell me, what's bothering you?" Camille asked, resting a hand over Alec's comfortingly. Alec hardly noticed the implications of the touch, gazing absently into space. "Prince Alec?" Camille repeated, a little louder.

"Hmm?" Alec turned to smiled distractedly at the girl. "I'm sorry, did you say something?" Camille removed her hand from Alec's, settling back against the chaise she was resting with a small sigh of disappointment. Alec sensed the rapidly deteriorating mood and sat up straighter. "Princess d' Clarine a Cour?" Camille smiled tightly.

"Please, Prince Alec, call me Camille, it's only fair." She said, leaning forward slightly. Alec realized belatedly that the dress she wore was as shockingly revealing as it was bright red, and he had Isabelle for a sister.

"I wouldn't think of it, it's hardly formal at all." He answered, sitting back on the chaise, avoiding looking that the princess entirely. He stared instead at his black dress shirt and matching pants.

Isabelle had sent over two of her ladies to pick out his outfits ever since Magnus had been in the hospital. After seeing how distraught Alec was over Magnus, Aline had suggested white, as was the Lux Lignum color of mourning, but Helen had firmly disagreed. She'd offered Alec an outfit full of black, from the collar at his shoulders to his boots, it was the color of battle to their people. Fitting, seeing as Alec was in for a rough few weeks. The prince thought back to Robert, dressed in black, standing next to Magnus' kneeling form and clenched his fists. It had practically been a declaration of war; _I will not let my son carry on like this._

"If talks between our countries go well, there will be little time for formalities, won't there?" Alec's attention was drawn back to Camille, before he looked away in embarrassment, focusing on the cold tea sitting untouched on the table in front of them.

"I suppose you have a point. Though it seems my thoughts are on other things these days." He answered, digging the nail of his thumb into his thigh. He heard Camille shift closer.

"On your up and coming rule? Or…something else?" Alec chewed on his lip, wondering what he could say, and how much would flow to his father's ears.

"Princess, may I ask you of something?" He asked, looking to Camille, his eyes fixed firmly on her face.

"Why, of course." Camille answered, her green eyes widening a fraction.

"Do you honestly wish to marry me?" Camille looked shocked at the question. She leaned back, staring at Alec as if she were truly looking at him, and not just another prince that had courted her over the years.

"I, well…o-of course!" Alec smiled sadly at the girl's overly cheerful tone

"Are you sure? To have your life forever chained to someone you barely know? I confess I do not know much about you, my lady." Alec admitted gently. Camille stumbled for a moment, looking as thought she was having trouble figuring out what to say.

"Well, that's what married life is for! To get to know each other!" She finally said, smiling at Alec. Alec closed his eyes, looking away.

"But wouldn't you like to know who you're marrying beforehand? I feel like you're being cheated, I'm no great Prince. My combat skills are mediocre at best, my diplomacy is laughable-"

"Prince Alec." Camille placed a hand on Alec's, squeezing his hand tightly. "The fact that you're so considerate to my feelings tells me that you're a compassionate person. You care for me, much like I know you'll care for your citizens in the future. And that will make you a great king, I know it." Alec laughed gently, looking away.

"Thank you, but I fear I've already messed up." He said. Camille tilted her head to the side, looking at him in confusion.

"Whatever do you mean?" She asked.

"Someone, one of my future citizens, has been wrongly punished for my crimes, and I don't know how to make it right." He told her. Camille's hand was warm against his own, and Alec squeezed it reflexively, much like would have if he had talked with Isabelle. Isabelle, who was watching over Magnus as Alec and Camille chatted.

"Who?" The princess asked, a small tremor in her voice. Alec realized that if he continued, and Robert heard of it, that things could go horribly wrong for Magnus. He hesitated, but there was a twinkle in Camille's eyes that caught his attention. He stared into the princess' gaze, feeling his thoughts grow muddled. "Who is it, Prince Alec?" Camille asked, her tone a tad more firm.

"Magnus." The words slipped from Alec's lips on their own, and he shook his head, realizing what he'd just said. "I mean, I don't..." He trailed off, looking down at their joined hands. Camille's free hand found his, and Alec looked back up when she spoke again.

"The man that's always following you around? Isn't he your personal attendant?" Alec smiled at her, feeling a spike of guilt. Camille didn't know what was going on beyond her line of sight. She didn't know about Robert's rage, or the red marks on his neck that Aline had covered with a balm this morning.

"No, he's not, he's a friend." He said, feeling a touch of sad affection for the blonde-haired girl. She would either go home without a husband, or if she and Alec married, she would be stuck with a man who did not love her. Not like he loved another man. "A close friend." Camille drew in on herself, as if considering Alec's words.

"I see. Is this punishment the reason he's not here today?" She asked, and Alec nodded, remembering the horrors of that night.

"Yes, it was horrible. I don't know what to do. I feel like my father might order for something worse to be done to him if I don't do _everything _perfectly."

"Why?" Camille asked, sounding shocked.

"Because he thinks that I'm not good enough to be king." Alec answered, looking away. "And I admit it, I'm not. I don't know how to rule this country in the future." Camille's thumb brushing against the back of his hand soothingly.

"I don't believe that, Prince Alexander. He's probably just trying to help you along."

"By hurting my friend?" Alec asked incredulously. Camille paused, choosing her words carefully.

"I don't know about that. But I'm sure that the king wouldn't hurt him any more if he saw that you were steadily making your way towards becoming a future king." Alec paused, knowing that what the princess said was correct.

"My father believes that Magnus is distracting me from spending time with you." He said.

"But you're here now, aren't you? And I see nothing wrong about you keeping his company in the future." Camille smiled brightly. "I'll speak to the king about it."

"Really?" Alec asked, a tinge of excitement in his voice. He couldn't believe that the princess was willing to talk to his father over such a matter. He hadn't expected to find a friend in her.

"Of course. He tells stories, doesn't he?" Camille asked curiously. Alec smiled, his cheeks tingling with heat.

"I'm completely enchanted by them." He admitted. Camille giggled at his words.

"I would think that our children and grandchildren would love to hear his tales as well. Can you imagine? I'm sure he'd enjoy it, getting to tell tales to the royal family. He'd look down at them and he'd see the both of us in their eyes." Alec's stomach rolled unexpectedly at the thought, and he quickly pulled his hand away from Camille's. He looked to the girl he would have gladly called friend, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"You speak as if we're already wedded." He said, a bit hoarsely. Camille looked at him, her green eyes shining.

"Is it not true soon enough? I heard that you did not admire your other suitors. Do you not admire me either?" Alec quickly dropped his gaze, unable to meet the princess' eyes.

"I-they sent portraits, but I couldn't become attached to canvas and paint-"

"And so I came to you, Prince Alec. So you could get to know me as a human being, and not as a painting. If we were to wed, we could continue to know more about each other. We'd find out things we didn't like, sure, but for the good of the kingdom, we would ignore those and focus on the good." Camille said. Alec tried to picture him on Robert's throne, Camille at his side. It all felt so..._wrong_.

"Princess, I-"

"Please, call me Camille." And then she leaned forward, pressing her lips against Alec's. It was chaste, but in that moment Alec's entire being quaked in horror. He jerked away, falling away from Camille and jumping to his feet. His lips burned, in a fiery way that felt like he had kissed the brimstone walls of hell. He pressed a hand over his mouth, staring at the princess with wide eyes. What had she done? What had _he_ done? Panic beat at him, filling his chest painfully, until he realized he wasn't breathing. He drew in a sharp gasp, a word breathing through his burning lips, cooling them like river water.

"Magnus." Alec whispered, watching as Camille's eyes went wide. He whirled around and ran out of the room, outrunning the thoughts that tried to drag him to the ground with every step.

* * *

A/N: Ahhh, that was a delightfully emotional chapter. I'm surprised none of my reviewers thought of Isabelle. It was a whip after all.

Reviews are adored~


	9. Chapter 9

**The Prince and the Storyteller. Chapter 8.**

Alec gripped Magnus' hand tightly, watching as the storyteller's chest rose and fell in time with his breathing. Gretel had insisted that Magnus spend a few more days in the infirmary in order to fully rest up before returning to Alec's side. Even so Alec was always here in his free time, sitting next to Magnus' bed and waiting for him to wake up. Word had spread like wildfire across the castle about Magnus' punishment and Robert's continued threats. The servants had started sending messages amongst each other about the king's mood that particular day, warning Isabelle's handmaidens who in turn would tell Isabelle and Alec. The chefs had spent the past few days preparing some of Robert's favorite foods for dinner every evening. Even Alec's tutors gave the king only the most exemplary compliments about Alec's personal studies. It was like the entire castle was trying to spare Magnus the king's rage, or avoid it themselves.

"Helen and Aline have been helping me with my clothes." Alec said, glancing down at his outfit, it was black once again, with rabbit's fur resting softly along his collar and shoulders. He almost missed the colors Magnus would dress him in. "And father praised me the other day while watching my fencing lesson. I think he might be in a better mood than...earlier." Alec bit his lip, looking at Magnus' closed eyes. "I wish you were awake. I just...I just need you to tell me that it's not my fault, Magnus. Or, if it is, just tell me to leave you alone and I will. I...I have to stay here, but I'd give you money to travel anywhere you wanted." Alec trailed off, looking down at Magnus' hand, limp in his own. "I just...I'm sorry."

"Prince Alec?" Alec looked over his shoulder, blinking in surprise when he saw Camille at the door of the infirmary. He hadn't seen her since that disaster in the library a few days ago. She had claimed to be ill, only needing a few days of bed rest. Robert had been concerned, the royal ball would happen in just a few days. Today Camille's dress was a twist of deep blue fabric lined with pastel green lace, her hair pulled away from her neck. Alec remembered the kiss from earlier and felt his lips tingle unpleasantly. He looked back towards Magnus silently. Camille moved forward after a moment, standing at Alec's side. She looked down to see where Alec and Magnus' hands were joined. "Is this your storyteller?" She asked quietly. Alec nodded, setting Magnus' hand back on the bed gently. "Has he awoken yet?"

"Briefly, but never when I'm around. I'm just so busy." Camille hummed in acknowledgment.

"I see."

"My Prince?" Alec turned to look at the attendant waiting for him at the infirmary door.

"What is it?" He asked, already knowing that whatever it was, it would take him from Magnus' side once again.

"The King has called for you, sire." The attendant told him, sympathy in his eyes. "He asked to see you as soon as possible." Alec chewed on his lip, looking back at Magnus.

"I..." Camille placed a hand on his arm, smiling at him gently.

"I'll watch over him until you return." She promised. Alec paused, flashing Camille a brief smile.

"Thank you, Princess Cla...Camille." Alec paused, glancing at the attendant, then Camille. "About that time in the library..."

"Think nothing of it." Camille answered easily. "It was my mistake, being so brash. I merely thought..." She trailed off, looking forlorn. Alec, moved by pity, reached out and squeezed her hand in his own.

"You are a dear friend to me." He said, hesitating when he saw the hope in her eyes. "Maybe you could be something more in the future." He mumbled the words like a shameful apology, knowing that he could never love the princess. Not like he loved Magnus.

"Thank you, Prince Alec." Camille looked towards the attendant. "It's best not to keep the king waiting, I'll stay with your storyteller until you return." She sat down in Alec's chair as the prince left the infirmary, Alec's voice a low murmur as he drifted away from the pair.

Camille watched Magnus for a long moment, before a sharp crack sounded in the air. Magnus gasped in pain, his eyes flying open. He looked around wildly, his gaze resting on Camille's face.

"Good afternoon, Magnus." Camille greeted, siting back in the chair. "Sad. It hasn't been that long since we last chatted, but I'm afraid I've already won this game." Camille smiled cheerfully at the storyteller. Worry filled Magnus' eyes.

"What did you do to Alec?" He asked, his voice a dry rasp. Camille laughed, shaking her head.

"Oh, nothing. It's what Alec will do to you." She answered airily, pushing a blonde lock of hair out of her face. Magnus watched her for a moment, a quiet rage brewing inside him.

"Camille. What did you do?" Magnus asked, his voice dark. Camille merely smiled at him, her eyes cold.

"A kiss is a tragic thing, isn't it? So many things can be drawn from a single kiss. The misconception of friendship. The taint of love. The bite of death." She waved a hand through the air lightly, looking at Magnus, a cruel smile on her face. It was the same smile she worn when she'd burned the Devil's mark into Magnus's eyes.

"Camille. Answer me." Magnus tried to rise to his elbows, hissing when he felt his back pulse with pain. Camille folded her hands in her lap, pouting at him.

"But I do enjoy these games." She said, looking over her shoulder at the door. "The mystery, the betrayal...watching you suffer..."

"But you enjoy granting wishes even more." Magnus smiled coldly. "In fact, if I remember correctly, you said you'd grant my every wish when you first captured me." Camille frowned, the amusement wiped away from her expression.

"I answer no wish against my own will." Magnus' eyes narrowed, and he smiled, knowing he had the upper hand.

"But you want to tell me. I can see it in your greedy eyes. Hear it in your sharp voice. Camille, I wish you would tell me what spell you've laid on Alec." Camille pursed her lips together, as if she were trying to hold the information in. Magnus watched her struggle for a moment, still smiling faintly.

"I know that childish prince has yet to kiss you since you've awoken." She finally burst out, glaring hatefully at Magnus the entire time.

"How?"

"Because you yet draw breath. That is my curse on the Prince. Once he kisses you, you will die." Camille declared, a bit of her dark joy filling her again at the stunned look on Magnus' face. Magnus worked the curse over in his mind, before focusing back on Camille.

"How would I get rid of this curse?" He asked slowly. A small chuckle escaped Camille's lips.

"How do all of my curses end, Magnus? With true love's kiss." Camille smiled darkly. "Of course, kissing the Prince that you're so enamored with you would only kill you, but have no fear! I promise to make Prince Alec fall so deeply in love with me, that a peck from my lips will break the curse, and then you may brush lips with him again." Camille paused, tilting her head to the side in consideration. "Though…it wouldn't be the same, would it?"

"No," Magnus said, struggling to keep his tone neutral, "I suppose it wouldn't."

"Of course, you could always tell him about our little past, but how would you make him believe? By showing him your own cursed eyes? But what would he say?"

"I understand your point." Magnus hissed. Camille smiled fondly.

"Then sit back, boy, and watch as I take away the one you hold so dear."

* * *

"Am I going to be arrested?" Simon asked, looking around the heavily wooded area in confusion, before glancing down at his and Isabelle's joined hands. "Or murdered?"

"Why do you keep asking if I'm going to murder you?" Isabelle asked, pausing outside the vine-covered grate. She pulled the greenery away, looking to Simon. The musician stared into the dark abyss for a long moment, before looking to the princess.

"With all due respect, your Highness, if I were planning on murdering someone, I'd throw the body in there."

"Oh, shut up." Isabelle replied lightly, tugging Simon closer, until their lips brushed together.

* * *

Magnus rolled his shoulders experimentally, before looking to Gretel.

"Thank you for your help." he said, dragging on his shirt. It was the bright red apples wore when they were at their tartest on the fruit trees. "If there's anything I can do..."

"Be careful." Gretel answered, looking at Magnus, her expression serious. "Prince Alexander is the heir to the throne, if your being here jeopardizes his future reign...for the sake of the kingdom, should you even be here?"

"I don't know." Magnus answered honestly. "But so long as Alec wishes for me to remain by his side, I shall." Gretel studied him for a long moment, before nodding. She turned to Magnus' bedside table, picking up two bottles.

"A curious man visited you while you were asleep. He said you'd be needing this." Magnus accepted the flask, this one made from rose gold. Gretel looked at him evenly. "He looked rather green, so I was concerned for his health, however he told me that it was just a minor condition and not to be bothered." Magnus paused, studying the flask, turning it upside down to see the elegant carving of the initials R.F. into it's base. Liquid swished inside the bottle and Magnus smiled.

"I see, and that one?" Magnus asked, looking to the other bottle, this one made of thick glass. Gretel paused, before handing this one over as well.

"A balm made by me. To sooth the soreness of your skin and muscles. Apply it nightly until the pain and stiffness is truly gone, and relief will come much sooner."

"Thank you, Gretel."

"Do not thank me." Gretel replied, sounding somewhat put out. "Be thankful that our Captain sees good in you, Magnus. I fear it may be your only saving grace in the future."

* * *

"You're back!" Alec rushed forward, only to halt and look back to Aline and Helen. The handmaidens exchanged a look before making a beeline for the door without another word. Once the door shut Alec looked at Magnus, reaching out to gently touch his hand.

"Are you alright?" He asked. Magnus smiled down at him, nodding.

"A little sore, but I'll heal." Magnus saw the guilt that filled Alec's face and continued. "And you, my Prince? How are you?"

"I'm fine. I was just about to take a bath." He added shyly, looking down at their joined hands. Magnus faltered, remembering Camille's words.

"I could tell you a story while you washed if you wanted." Magnus offered. Alec looked up at him, his eyes wide.

"I thought..." The prince paused, before nodding. "...Alright." He leaned forward then, his eyes slipping closed. Magnus gripped the Prince's shoulders roughly, keeping him away, a panicked gasp escaping his lips. Alec's eyes snapped open, and he quickly stepped away, his face red. "I...I just...okay...it's okay...I understand." Alec quickly walked into his bathroom without another word.

Magnus thought about turning around and leaving at that moment, but a small, pained sound escaped Alec's throat as the door to the bath slid shut behind him. Guilt flooded the storyteller and he closed his eyes for a long moment. He didn't know how long he could keep things up, not when Alec wanted him so bad and he the same. But with one kiss he would be gone, and the storyteller didn't think Alec could handle the guilt of his death either. Because Alec would take the blame, one way or another.

The storyteller waited a moment longer, before he followed the prince to what could very well have been his doom.

* * *

A/N: Dun dun dun duuunnn. But yes, I feel this chapter is rather self-explanatory.

Reviews are adored~!


End file.
